Heavy
by Miss Peg
Summary: Jane and Maura are called to a crime scene at four in the morning. Six months after the birth of their son, attending the death of a baby is especially hard, leaving Jane on a downward spiral that leads her to question things she never expected.
1. Chapter 1

**Author Notes** : I know I dropped off the face of the earth for a while. Life has been busier than I would have liked. 2017 wasn't the most settled of years. I do plan, eventually, to finish my other story. This is one I was writing in 2016 which I wanted to finish before I posted it. It's not quite complete, but I know what needs adding to finish it. I'm finally ready to begin this journey.

 **Warning** : This story contains several mentions of child death because this story is very dark.

* * *

 **Heavy**

 _Dark brown curls clung to cheeks damp with thick, red blood. Big, wide eyes stared across at the body convulsing in the grass. Her bottom lip quivered, and the wailing began._

x

"Why did you bring the baby?" Korsak asked, tilting his head to the side and sticking his tongue out at the six-month-old in Jane's arms.

She raised an eyebrow. "You ever tried to find a babysitter at four in the morning?"

"Good point," he said, running a hand through the boy's hair. He clapped his hands together and reached for him.

With tiny chubby fingers, the baby reached back. Korsak leaned forward until he grasped at his nose. Korsak yowled in protest.

"No, no, Rico," Maura said, untangling the baby's fingers from around his nostril. "Not Uncle Korsak's nose."

Jane passed him across to Korsak, who lifted him up onto his side and blew raspberries on his cheeks, until the baby howled with laughter, and Korsak's face lit up with glee.

"I'm glad somebody can be cheerful," Jane said, rolling her eyes. She marched toward the police tape cordoning off the house.

"You probably don't wanna go in there," Korsak said, blocking her path.

She stared down at her son, his light brown hair ruffled from where Korsak had teased it with his fingers. The wakeup call had come in shortly after her ritual three am call from Rico. Whilst she usually managed to drop back off around four, she didn't much appreciate the additional late night workload.

"What's happened?" Maura asked; her medical bag clutched between her fingers.

Korsak held Rico's cheeks in his hands and sighed, glancing back up at Jane and Maura. He cleared his throat. "We didn't know when they called you. I figured you might not want to, since Rico's only little. We'd all understand if it's too much for both of you."

Jane frowned. "Korsak?"

"Our victim is a baby."

Swallowing the lump that threatened to settle in her throat, Jane turned to Maura, who turned to her. She could see the moisture already gathered around Maura's eyelids. They both looked at Rico, their shoulders dropped.

"Are you okay with Rico?" Maura asked. Korsak nodded.

Jane gripped her arm as Maura set off toward the house. "You're going in there?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Our son."

"Our son is alive and well," Maura said, her words slow and methodical. Jane stared into her eyes, desperate to find some semblance of pain that matched her own. The build-up of tears did not disappoint. "But unlike us, there is a family grieving their child, and I will not let them down."

She cleared her throat, pushing down the tears that threatened her. "Okay."

She grasped at Maura's hand, clumsily interlinking their fingers despite the fragility of her resolve. Maura's metal band collided with her skin and she felt grateful knowing that it, and their son, existed.

"Let's do this," she said.

x

The baby, barely a year old, lay lifeless in her crib; a pool of blood soaked the mattress. Her family were a shaken mess in the living room, still dressed in nightwear. Finding the strength to carry out her duty had never been as difficult as in that moment. Jane turned away, tears skirted her cheeks. She felt her stomach heave. No other case had ever had such an effect since her days as a rookie, and she'd seen some horrific things over the years.

"First kid since the kid?" a CSRU technician asked. Jane nodded. "I was like that after mine was born."

Maura was already leaning over the opened gate of the crib, attending to the body. Sometimes her ability to carry on astounded Jane. She always thought she was stronger, more capable of pushing her own things aside. Then she watched Maura collect evidence off a baby, six months after giving birth, and she realised she'd never be as strong as her wife.

"There are three gunshot wounds," Maura said. The quaver in her voice threatened her professionalism. She stepped back, her face ashen. She peeled off her gloves and slowly walked across the room toward Jane. If she hadn't been fully focused on Maura, she probably wouldn't have heard her speak. "Who would shoot a baby?"

"That's the hardest part," Korsak said. Jane stared at his empty hands, aghast. "He's okay, he's with Frankie."

She leaned against the yellow nursery wall, her heart thumping inside of her chest. Maura clung to her side. She slipped an arm across her back and cradled her. "Maybe we shouldn't have come."

"I'm okay," Maura said, though her voice continued to betray her. "What is the hardest part, Korsak?"

"The baby was shot by her four year old brother."

 _Dark brown curls covered in blood. A pair of dungarees soaked in red. The highest pitched wail she'd ever heard. A man screaming. Her ears ringing._

A flash of horror spread across Jane's face. Her throat closed over and she crumbled to the ground. She squeezed her eyes tightly and focused on every harried breath.

When she opened her eyes again, Maura, Korsak and the CSRU technician crouched in front of her. She stared into their eyes, one by one, unable to fathom the feelings that caused her heart to bounce around inside of her chest. In the distance a child cried, pulling her slowly back into the room.

"Jane," Maura whispered, clutching her hands. "Jane, can you hear me?"

"Yeah," she said, fixing her gaze on Maura's hazel eyes, so full of emotion. She wrapped her hands across her stomach and leaned forward. "I feel like I'm gonna barf."

Korsak handed her a glass of water. "Drink that."

She looked up to thank him, but he was already on the other side of the room with the crime tech. An arm wrapped around her back. She glanced down at the hand on her left side, even though Maura was on her right. She let her pull her up until she could support herself against the wall.

"We should probably go home," Maura said. "I can conduct the autopsy first thing in the morning."

"I'm okay," Jane said, more to appease her own fractured mind. Every movement, every step felt like it was someone else carrying it out in front of her. She sipped the water, abandoning the glass on a bookcase as they walked out of the room.

Maura held her upright. Each step felt so much harder than usual. "I doubt that."

x

Frankie handed the baby to her. Jane stared into his eyes, so unlike her own that for a moment she felt so distant that she didn't know how she'd ever find her way back to him. He grinned and wrapped his fist around her hair.

"No, no, Rico," Maura said, untangling his fingers. "Not Mama's hair."

She handed him over to Maura and slouched into the passenger seat of the car. She could hear Rico's wails, could feel the car start up, and movement of the vehicle. The bubble surrounded her, as though she'd gone diving and her ears were clogged with ocean water.

 _A man stared into her eyes. A bright light flashed across each pupil. The ringing continued. She wailed louder._

"Stop the car," Jane said. Maura looked at her. Jane repeated her request over and over until the movement stopped. She unbuckled her seatbelt, opened the car door, and leaned forward into the early morning breeze. "I don't feel well."

"What's going on?" Maura asked. "This can't be because of the baby."

"I don't," Jane tried to breathe evenly but her throat closed over again. She rested her feet on solid earth. "I can't do this."

"Do what?" Maura opened her door and walked around the car. She crouched down in front of Jane, her hands on each of her knees. "What can't you do, Jane?"

"I don't know."

Maura cupped her cheeks, holding her face steady. She stared into her eyes and felt a semblance of calm. Everything melted away. Listening to the methodical sound of Maura's slow and steady breaths evened her own to a steady pace. She felt a little better.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, lowering her head against Maura's shoulder.

"Don't apologise," Maura said, running her hands across Jane's back. "I'm here."

"I can't." Jane shook her head, silencing herself. She breathed deeply. "I can't shake it."

"I know."

" _No_." She pulled away from Maura, sitting herself back in her seat. Maura didn't move. "Not that. Something. I can't explain."

"Take your time."

She tossed her fist down on the dash. "I don't need time, Maura."

Maura pressed her lips together and stood up. Guilt overwhelmed Jane. Maura closed the car door, not saying a word as she climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine.

Barely a hint of emotion in her voice, Maura whispered "Let's go home."

x

A couple of hours later, Jane sat on one side of the table in the interrogation room, her knee bouncing up and down. She flicked through her page of notes, not daring to look at the man who contributed to the death of his daughter. She could still smell nitrocellulose mixed with a rusty old nail. She could still hear the distant cries of the little boy whose life would never be the same.

"Where were you when it happened?" Jane asked. She averted her gaze, hoping the lack of eye contact and relaxed atmosphere would put the father at ease. Her cell phone buzzed in her pocket. She dug her fingernail into a hole on the edge of the table and pulled out splinters of wood.

"In bed. Asleep."

Nonchalantly, she asked for details, establishing where the children were, where his wife was. "And where was the gun?"

"In a box."

"Locked?"

"No."

Her hand tensed up around her pen, frozen over her paper. She ignored the continuous buzzing against her leg. She didn't look up. "Where was the box?"

"Under the bed."

 _Tiny chubby fingers reached out to a shoe box, barely bigger than the feet in front of her. She gripped the edge of the lid, desperate to see what was inside. Two, large hands wrapped around her armpits and tugged her away._

Pressing her lips together, Jane clenched her fingers tightly around the edge of her papers. She looked into the father's eyes. Tears coated his eyeballs, a crease between his eyebrows. "You kept a gun in an unlocked box under your bed."

"Yes," he whispered, his voice broke under the strain.

"Could the box be locked? Was it made of wood, metal?"

He shook his head. "Cardboard."

She cleared her throat, despite the feeling of razor blades making it painful to do so. She took her cell phone from her pocket. Rico and Maura's faced smiled at her, 'Maura Isles' written on the screen. She pressed the red button, placing it beside her on the table.

 _Sitting down beside a large bed, so big she liked to jump on it when she was allowed; she reached forward and pulled the box toward her. Those hands again, grabbing for her, pulling her backward._

"You left," Jane began, her voice low and steady, growing louder and more abrupt with every word. "A loaded gun in a cardboard box, where your child could reach it."

Barely audible, the man cupped his blotched cheeks. "Yes."

"Are you aware that in the state of Massachusetts it is an offence to keep a gun in an unlocked container?"

"Yes."

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Jane sprang from her chair, banging both balled fists down on the table. She walked around the edge of the table, her movements a far cry from the anger in her voice. "Are you fucking stupid?"

"I _needed_ protection."

Standing up, Jane's jaw clenched. She gripped hold of the front of his shirt, moving uncontrollably she lifted it towards her and rushed forward until she smashed him back against the wall. "Who the fuck was protecting your daughter while you were playing with guns?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, repeating the words over and over. Tears flowed freely down his cheeks. The man withered under her touch. He crumbled, his knees slipped out from under him.

"Rizzoli," Korsak said, standing in the doorway. She stared back, her eyes wide, her heart beating loudly in her ears. " _Out_. _Now_."

Loosening her grip, Jane lowered him down to the floor, one hand still clutched around his shirt. She swiped at her cheek.

"I'm sorry," he continued to whisper.

Chewing on her lip, Jane stared once again into the eyes of the father, her teeth gritted together. She tossed the edges of his shirt away; a snarl escaped her lips, as she turned tail and exited the interview room.

"What is wrong with you?" Korsak asked, the second she closed the door.

"They _let_ this happen!"

"If they let this happen we'll find out and we will prosecute." He folded his arms, shaking his head in derision. "Until then you will take a step back. Rico is clearly affecting your judgement."

The image of Rico on her cell phone filled her mind. The way he smiled when she entered the room. Blood drowned out the image of her son. She closed her eyes, her fist clenched at her side. "This isn't about Rico."

"Like hell it isn't," Korsak said, walking away. "Go check on the autopsy."

* * *

 **Author Note** : I hope you've enjoyed the first chapter. There's a long way to go. Probably 11 or 12 chapters' worth. I already have 10 chapters nearly completed, the final 1 or 2 is still to be written. Your thoughts are much appreciated…


	2. Chapter 2

**Author Note** : Wow, thanks everyone for the amazing response. I'm glad you all seem to be on board with it already, and I hope you enjoy the rest of the journey.

* * *

She took the stairs two at a time, running her pent up energy down to the Medical Examiner's floor. Every action distanced her from everything that had happened since she woke up. In the doorway to the examination room, Jane froze. Her fingers shook. At the top end of the slab was the tiny baby, drowned by light and the large adult size of metal slab. She didn't speak. Maura moved with decorum, meticulous actions, slow and careful. It amazed her how easily she could work on such a heart breaking case without falling apart, when all Jane felt was a tumbled mess of emotions.

"How is this not breaking you?" she asked, barely a whisper.

Maura stepped back, catching Jane's eye. Her hands moved uncontrollably now, a complete juxtaposition from when she worked on the child. "What you see on the outside is barely reflected on the inside."

"Oh." Somehow it didn't surprise her. She always knew Maura had her triggers; it took a long time to discover the things that hurt her. It was only a matter of time before the final piece of her facade crumbled. "I thought you were unflappable."

"I've never been unflappable. I merely learnt how to work under extreme pressure."

She stepped forward. Catching sight of the little girl's face, she backed up again, her voice almost useless. "Can you take a break?"

"For a moment." Maura placed the scalpel down on the metal tray and turned around. "You didn't answer my calls."

"I was interrogating the father."

"I thought you were going to stay at home."

Jane lunged forward, wrapping her arms tightly around her shoulders until she relaxed against her. She forced confidence into her voice, but it sounded more like a whine. "You're amazing. I don't tell you that enough."

"You show me." Maura lifted a hand to Jane's back. "That's what matters."

"I should tell you, too." Her voice broke. "You deserve to hear it."

"What's wrong?" Maura asked, holding her at arm's length, staring into her eyes. Jane stared back, locked in an unspoken contest. "You should have stayed home."

"I couldn't do what you do," Jane whispered, kicking her toes against the tiled floor. "I tried. I wanted to carry on, but I couldn't."

"I've been thinking about Rico all morning," Maura said, stepping aside and covering the body with a sheet.

Jane groaned. "This isn't about Rico."

"Isn't it?"

"Maybe a little."

"What else is it about then?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "I'm struggling to figure that bit out."

"Do you want to talk it through?"

"I wouldn't know what to say."

"Well," Maura said, picking up her tools once more. She dragged the sheet from the body and returned to her work. "When you do, I'll be waiting."

x

Throwing herself down on Angela's couch, Jane kicked off her shoes. "Hey, Ma?"

"Yes, my sweet baby girl," Angela said, leaning down and kissing her forehead. Jane wrapped an arm around her neck for a moment and pressed her lips to her cheek.

"Okay." She dropped her arms back by her sides. "Enough with the pleasantries."

"Pleasantries?" Angela shifted her feet off the couch and sat down. "Maura has rubbed off on you."

Rolling her eyes, Jane sat up, crossing her legs beneath her. She hugged a pillow, squeezing it tightly against her chest. "Ron's not gonna be home anytime soon, is he?"

"No. He's at work 'til nine. Why? Do you wanna stay for dinner?"

"Can't, I have to get home. Maura's making dinner." She lifted the pillow up and down against her thighs. She punched it a couple of times. "I've been thinking about when I was kid."

"What about it?"

"I dunno. I have a memory, I think. I can't remember clearly." She stared straight ahead. The fireplace lit up with flames, the décor belonged in the country magazines her mother always read when she was a child. The home she always wanted, yet Jane had never felt at home there. "All I remember is a man I don't know, but I think maybe he's related to us somehow."

Angela smiled. "That must be your uncle Demetrio; he lived round here when you were small."

" _No_." Jane shook her head. She tugged at a strand of thread sticking out of the corner of the pillow. The explanation could make sense, but it didn't. "He doesn't look like Demetrio. He doesn't even look like Pop."

"Maybe it's one of our old neighbours," she said, yanking the pillow out of Jane's tightly folded arms and straightening it out.

"I don't think so. There's something about him, like he's important. Who else could it be, Ma?"

She stood up and reshuffled a couple of magazines on the coffee table. She picked them up and moved them to the other side. Jane waited for her to speak. "Don't be silly, Janie. It's probably just one of our neighbours from when you were small."

"I guess."

"Don't worry yourself with silly memories. The brain lies. You focus on that beautiful grandson of mine."

x

The baby squirmed about in Maura's arms, clambering over her. He reached forward with his mouth, searching for a meal.

"That's a sign it's bath time!" Maura said, moving him from her lap to Jane's. He tried to move back again. She held him away. "No, no, Rico. After your bath; you need to get clean."

"No," Jane said, picking him up and returning him to Maura's knee. "You do it."

A crease formed between her eyebrows. "It doesn't have to be an either/or. We can do it together."

She opened her mouth with confidence only to find her voice barely audible. "Please, Maura."

"I'll bathe him." She stood up, resting Rico on her hip. He wriggled and reached out for Jane. She closed her eyes and looked away. "But please come upstairs with us and talk to me."

"There's nothing to say," Jane said, wrapping her arms around a pillow. Her voice betrayed her.

Hesitating, Maura gripped her fingers. "Clearly there is."

With no valid argument, Jane followed them up the stairs and into the bathroom. She filled it with water while Maura changed Rico, and knelt down beside them. Maura lowered him into his bath seat and picked up the water jug. He stared at her, his bottom lip quivered.

"It's okay," she whispered, running a hand across his soft hair. She turned to Jane. "I think he'd like you to do your bath time song."

"Not tonight."

" _Jane_."

"I don't feel like being silly tonight."

"You know he doesn't like the water going on his face," Maura said. "It's the only thing that calms him."

" _No_." She stood up.

Maura tugged at her shirt sleeve. "This is the third night in a row. You know I can't put on the voice the way you can. He loves 'Splish Splash I was taking a bath'. It makes him smile more than anything else. _You_ make him smile."

Gritting her teeth, Jane slapped Maura's hand away and stepped back. "Stop pushing me, Maura."

Rico's bottom lip quavered again, followed by a slow cry that grew in both volume and velocity. Maura sighed. She poured water over Rico's face as he sobbed. Jane settled on the floor beside them. Once his hair was washed, Maura pulled Rico out of the bath and into the towel Jane held out. She tried to take him, but Maura grabbled him up and headed for the door.

"I'm worried you're pulling away from us," she said, not stopping.

Jane struggled to her feet and chased after them. "I'm not pulling away...I just, it doesn't feel right."

"What doesn't?" Maura asked, placing Rico on the changing table and drying him off.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn't know how to sound confident. " _Anything_."

Maura sighed, running the sides of the towel across Rico's stomach. "I know things haven't been easy for you this week. You need to do things to build a bond with your son."

The harder she tried to push the tears down, the more they fought back. The fragility of Jane's emotions worried her. She didn't know how to get a handle on them. More than anything she wanted to be stood where Maura was, blowing raspberries on Rico's shoulders like she always did. "I _can't_. Not right now."

"Jane." Maura placed a hand on Rico's stomach to hold him steady. She grasped at Jane's hand and pulled her closer. "Stop talking like that and tell me what is going on. What are you feeling?"

"I feel…like nothing makes sense, it's all at a distance and I don't know how to reach it. It's like I'm…I dunno the word…I'm not with the world properly."

Pulling the sides of the diaper across the front of Rico's stomach, Maura lifted him back onto her hip and clasped Jane's hand again. "Disconnected?"

" _Yes_!"

"What from?"

"…him." The brief excitement over finding the word she couldn't explain dissipated. Jane let go of Maura's hand and stepped back, sitting down in the rocking chair a few feet away. She lowered her head into her hands, the tears flowed freely. Admitting the truth hurt more than distancing herself. At least when she put up her barriers she could pretend that everything was alright. She sighed. "I don't want to."

"The shooting has had a massive impact," Maura said, opening the top drawer of the dresser and pulling out an all-in-one outfit. She closed the gap between them and squeezed Jane's shoulder.

Jane shook her head. "It's not the shooting."

"What else would it be?"

"I don't know." Jane looked at her, at the confusion on Maura's face. She wanted answers but she had none to give. "Nothing feels right anymore. I want to carry on; I'm trying to carry on. It _hurts_. Everything hurts and I don't know why."

Returning her focus to Rico, Maura rested him back on the changing table and lifted each limb into his nightwear. "Perhaps you should make an appointment with a therapist."

" _No_." She stood up, forcing composure. Resting a hand over Rico's face, she brushed his hair back and blew a raspberry on his cheek. He giggled, kicking his legs out. Stepping back again, she forged a smile. "I'll be okay. I just need some time, I guess."

x

"You got any leads yet on the Rowan case?" Korsak asked, perching on the edge of Jane's desk.

"Nah," she said, shrugging. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. They had two cases on the go, both pretty straight forward, and yet she'd hit a stumbling block.

"Nothing at all?"

She sat upright, narrowing her eyes. "You don't believe me?"

In all the years they'd worked together, Korsak had not once questioned her work, not like that. She stared at him, aghast.

He leaned forward and rested his hand on her shoulder. "You're a good cop, Rizzoli, we all know that. Heck, you tell us often enough. But you've got to get your head back in the game."

"I can't magic a fucking lead," she shouted. The chatter in the room softened, several pairs of eyes glanced at her. She rolled her eyes, her voice quieter. "Do you expect me to work miracles now?"

"No." Korsak sighed and gave her shoulder a squeeze. "Frankie found something in the photographs you were looking at."

"So, what, that makes me incompetent?"

"That is not what I said, and it's certainly not what I meant." He stood up, towering over her. "I expect a monkey to pick up on what Frankie found, but you couldn't find anything. A detective with your expertise and decoration and you didn't see a missing earring. I know the shooting the other day was tough, but you've gotta get back in it, or step out. You hear me?"

Rolling her eyes, Jane sighed. "Yes, Sir."

"Enough of the petulance, Jane," Korsak said. "I make allowances because we're friends, but I'm still your superior and I'm not afraid of going to Cavanaugh if I think you're not doing your job properly. Capisce?"

"Okay," she said, abruptly.

The second he returned to his desk, Jane fled to the ladies room. She stared in the mirror, her eyes filled with tears, her cheeks reddened. She tried to focus on every breath, but her chest ached. The door opened and she jumped, swiping at the fresh tears on her face. The woman, a rookie detective from Vice, slipped into a cubicle without a word.

"Pull yourself together, Rizzoli," Jane muttered, splashing water on her cheeks.

x

"Hey, Rizzoli." Cavanaugh approached her desk, folding his arms across his chest. "How you doing?"

She sat up straight, her heart thumping loud enough that she could hear the blood pumping through her veins. He smiled. She narrowed her eyes. They rarely saw Cavanaugh unless it was an important case. Aside from his brief liaison with her mother, he wasn't one for pleasantries with his detectives. Seeing him beside her, Jane automatically put up her defences, even more so in light of her recent conversation with Korsak. "Fine."

"I need you to do something."

Relief settled her stomach. "What?"

"The media got a hold of the O'Hare case. Toddler kills his baby sister, it's gonna make the headlines. We've got the Boston Gazette wanting to do a piece, but unlike the trash they want the real story. They don't want a man talking shit about the pain of a mother. They want a mother."

She closed the case file in front of her and twisted in her seat. "What's that gotta do with me?"

He perched on the corner of her desk. "Who better than a new mother with an infant to talk about the death of a baby?"

Rolling her eyes, Jane shook her head. "No."

"I'm not asking, Rizzoli."

"I'm not exploiting my child to sell papers. I'm not a journalist, I'm a cop."

"You're not exploiting him. The Gazette are gonna run the story with or without our help. We need to do an official press release, that way the trash can at least get something right. Then we need you to do a one-on-one with a reporter from the Gazette. They're not looking for expert testimony; they're going to anti-gun lobbyists for that. We need a personal take. Just talk about how you can understand the grief of the family now you're a mother. Tell them how much you love your son and want to protect him from guns."

"I'm not against guns."

"I'm sure you're not, but I know you don't think they should be in the hands of toddlers. None of us do."

"I don't wanna."

He stood up, slapped her gently on the back. "Two o'clock in the break room."

"Cavanaugh!"

"Two o'clock, Rizzoli," he said, walking away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author Note** **: Thanks for reading. We're moving forwards with every chapter...**

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

The woman from the Gazette turned on her recorder and sat down opposite Jane. The break room was empty; the sign on the door sent other people downstairs. She stared at the glass partition, hoping that someone would ignore the sign and save her from herself.

"Don't look so worried, Detective Rizzoli," the woman said, her smile so large it almost infected Jane.

"I'm fine," she said, her lips tight.

"I'm Sarah, can I call you something other than Detective?"

She closed her eyes momentarily and pushed all doubts aside. She had to play ball, even if she didn't want to. The personal take, that's what Cavanaugh claimed they wanted.

"Jane," she said, staring directly into the woman's eyes.

"Lieutenant Cavanaugh said you've recently become a mother."

"That's right."

"Tell me about your son."

Chewing on her bottom lip, Jane searched for the right words. She'd sooner tell Sarah where to go, but she knew that wouldn't bode well with the Boston Police Department's PR team. "With all due respect, I'd rather not discuss details about my son."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I was under the impression that was what we were going to discuss," Sarah said, sitting upright.

"No. We're here to discuss a little girl who was killed by a family member who had easy access to a gun." Jane leaned forward. The words flowed freely. "Charlotte O'Hare. That was her name. She was thirteen months old and she lived with her older brother, Robert. Their father thought it acceptable to break the law prohibiting the storage of a loaded gun in a shoebox under his bed. What four year old child isn't curious about the contents of a box? What four year old child in the United States of America is not curious about guns?"

Noting the curt tone of her voice, Sarah narrowed her eyes. "What are you implying, Detective Rizzoli?"

"We live in a society that makes guns acceptable to children, and then we act surprised when they pick one up and think it's a toy."

"Did you play with guns as a child?"

"I played with toy guns. My Ma didn't like it one bit, but my Pop bought them for me and my brothers. We ran around the house pretending to be soldiers."

"Will you let your son play with guns?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Guns are not for children. Toy guns make real guns look appealing and they're not. They kill people."

"What will you tell your son if he asks for a gun, toy or otherwise?"

"I'll tell him that I love him and I want him to be safe, and that's why guns are not allowed in our house."

"But you're a cop, Jane, you use a gun at work. Do you have one at home?"

She hesitated. The answer did not belong in the message Cavanaugh wanted to be portrayed. "I have a gun. It is locked away in a combination safe which only I have the code for. My partner has no access to my gun, nor will our son."

"Then why have one at all? Protection?" She shifted in her seat, her eyebrows knitted deeper the more Jane spoke. "Isn't that the exact reason Gary O'Hare kept a gun under his bed?"

"The difference between me and Gary O'Hare, Sarah, is that I shoot a gun every week. I practice. Gary O'Hare kept a gun to protect his family, a gun he shot only twice at a range since purchasing it five years ago." She gripped the edge of the table until her knuckles paled. "A gun he thought acceptable to keep in an unlocked box under his bed, and it ended up killing his youngest child."

Sarah's taut expression softened. She rested an elbow on the table and held her head against the back of her hand. "Given that you became a mother just six months ago, how does it feel knowing that children are dying because their parents have failed to secure their guns?"

"It makes me feel sick."

 _She stood in the doorway staring out at the yard. He clutched the gun in both hands and fired at a can on a table a few feet away. The teddy bear in her hands dropped to the floor as she ran forward. He caught sight of her, and lowered the weapon, shouting at her, until she ran back inside._

"It makes me feel sick," she repeated. She rushed over to the sink and filled a glass with water, chugging it until it was empty. She turned around, still holding onto the edge of the sink. Her knees threatened to fail her. "Charlotte O'Hare wasn't much older than my kid. I love him; he's my world, and the thought of anything happening to him now or six months from now. It makes me feel sick."

"If you had a message for the people of Boston, regarding gun safety, what would that message be?"

"The second amendment protects you from laws restricting your gun ownership. That is our right as American citizens. But it does not protect you from the law regarding safe ownership. If you have children, protecting them should matter more to you than owning a gun. I don't care where you're from, or what you think about gun laws, as long as you protect your kids. Do what is right. Keep it locked away."

x

The newspaper turned up the next morning, sooner than Jane expected. Maura carried a pile of copies across the kitchen and retrieved the top two papers, placing one in front of Jane.

She swallowed a mouthful of eggs and picked it up. "You read it yet?"

"No. I thought you should be the first," Maura said, sitting down opposite her.

"Maybe later," Jane said putting the newspaper back on the table and placing a fork full of eggs into her mouth.

Holding up the second copy, Maura waved it in front of her. "Do you mind?"

"Go ahead."

Silently, she ate her eggs, ignoring the sounds Maura made as she read through the article. She turned her attention to Rico, who sat in his high chair smashing pieces of egg with his hands.

"No, no, Rico, the food goes in your mouth!" She picked up a spoon and loaded some of his smashed egg onto it, before holding it out to him. Opening his mouth wide, he took the whole spoonful into his mouth. "There's a good boy."

Maura put the newspaper down on the table and stared at Jane. Jane stared back, her eyebrows tugged together. Without a word, Maura walked around the table and wrapped her arms around her shoulder, placing kisses on her cheek.

"It can't have been that good," Jane muttered.

"It was wonderful."

"Really?" Jane shrugged and retrieved her own copy, skimming the article with Maura's arms still wrapped around her shoulders. "It's nothing special."

"Nothing special?" Maura sighed. "It's a well written piece that really gets across the dangers of guns in a home with children, and what you said about protecting your children was really important. We're really proud of you, aren't we Rico?"

He looked up, egg on his cheek, clutching a fistful. Tossing his fist down, it banged against the plastic tray. "Ba-ba-da."

Maura ran a hand across his cheek, brushing the egg away. " _Exactly_!"

"It's just a newspaper article; it's not even my article so I don't know why you're buying up half the copies in Boston," Jane said, untangling herself from Maura's arm and carrying her plate across to the sink.

"I'm proud of you."

"So?"

"Jane!"

She filled a glass with water and leaned back against the counter. "It's nothing to write home about, and I don't know why you keep making a big deal out of it. I come across as snarky and condescending."

"Your snarkiness is what we love about you," Maura said, unbuckling Rico.

"You hated it last week."

"I don't hate it. It sometimes causes issue when we're out in public."

"Same thing."

"I don't know where this is coming from, but you were part of a great piece of journalism and I am going to shout it from the rooftops."

"I wish you wouldn't."

Pulling Rico out of the highchair and onto her hip, Maura walked across the room. "Come on Rico, your Ma is Mrs Grumpypants today, let's get you cleaned up or Lisa won't be very happy with us. Maybe Ma will be feeling happier and will take you to the crèche while Mama goes and does an autopsy."

"Ma doesn't know why we bother using a crèche when we can afford a nanny," Jane said, putting her glass next to the plate in the sink.

Running a hand down the side of Rico's face, Maura smiled. "Mama doesn't want you to become spoiled, though maybe we can consider an Au Pair when you start school so you can learn another language."

Jane grunted. She returned to the table and removed the plastic tray from the highchair. "Ma thinks Au Pairs are pretentious."

"Don't be so ridiculous Jane," Maura said. "How can you find Au Pair's pretentious but not nannies?"

"People have nannies to look after their children. People have Au Pairs to look pretentious."

Pursing her lips, Maura didn't respond. Jane emptied the contents of the tray into the trash can, when she turned around, Maura was still watching her. "Will you take him to the crèche before work or not?"

"I will."

"We'll be ready in twenty minutes."

"Can't wait."

x

"This arrived for you," Korsak said, placing a hand written envelope down on Jane's desk.

She barely glanced up from an autopsy report on their latest victim, a twenty year old man who had an accident in his workplace. "Thanks. Looks like there's evidence James Clancy's accident wasn't an accident."

"Tampering?"

"Maura said there's bruising which isn't consistent with damage caused by the machine, but it is consistent with being held still while the machine caused serious damage."

"Someone killed him?"

"Looks like it." She placed the autopsy report on top of crime scene photographs and closed the file. She'd been working on piecing together what happened all morning, she needed a break. She turned the envelope over in her hand. "Pinewood Penitentiary?"

"It's from Pinewood?" Korsak asked, sitting down. "Who've you pissed off this time?"

She smirked. "Half of Boston."

"You should get Maura to take a look, make sure it's not full of anthrax or something."

Jane narrowed her eyes. "From the jail?"

"You never know."

Her relationship with Maura had been strained lately and she wasn't really in the mood to go in for round sixty-four. She shrugged. "I'll take the risk."

Peeling the envelope open, she pulled out a letter on plain paper; a black marker pen scrawled across the page. She turned it over, then back again. She didn't recognise the writing, but the hand written note unsettled her.

 _Dear Jane,_

 _I don't know if you know me but I know you, at least I used to. I saw you in the newspaper the other day talking about a shooting. You done more in your life than I could of dream for you when you was a kid. That kid didn't deserve to die like that. Your braver than me, though don't tell anyone I said that, I got a reputation to protect. I want you to come visit. I've not had a visitor for years. It be nice to see a familiar face. I put your name on the list so their expecting you to call to arrange. I would say tell your Ma I said hi but she might not like that I'm contacting you. It's been a long time. You did good, kid._

 _Love, Marco_

"Anything interesting?" Korsak asked, peering over a photograph.

"No."

 _A face stared at her, too hazy to make out. Thick patches of hair covered his face, scratching her skin as he leaned down to kiss her cheek. She closed her eyes and smiled._

She shook her head. A sense of foreboding settled in the pit of her stomach. She felt sick. Her knee moved involuntarily, bouncing up and down. She stood up and carried the letter towards the door.

"What is it?" Korsak asked.

Jane gritted her teeth. "Fan mail."

x

Maura walked around the table in the lab, dressed in her scrubs and lab coat, with her hair tied back. Kent handed her a plastic container and she carried it across the room. From the window, Jane watched her move and wondered when she got so lucky. The letter, folded carefully in her hand. She needed to share it, to talk about it, and yet, she folded it once more in half and stuffed it into the pocket of her pants.

"Jane!" Maura opened the door, the container now in Kent's hand. "What are you doing down here? I thought you were busy all day."

She chewed on the inside of her lip. The letter burned a hole in her pocket. "I am."

"Is it Rico? Is he okay?"

"Rico's fine." She assumed him to be fine, anyway, based on the lack of communication from the crèche. A metallic taste filled her mouth where she'd chewed through the outer layer of skin. "Everything's fine."

"Are you sure? You look pale."

Jane shrugged. "I was gonna see if you wanted to grab lunch."

Maura narrowed her eyes and glanced back into the lab. "It's eleven thirty."

"I know." She didn't. She'd lost track of time. She hesitated, searching for the right words to catch her mistake. "Later."

"Are you nearly done, Maura?" Kent shouted from across the lab. "The results are in."

"Sorry, Jane, there's too much to do. I was going to grab a quick sandwich."

"I could bring you one."

"I made one this morning, I would offer to share it but I know how much you hate food refrigerated here."

"I'll pass," Jane said, resting a hand over the edge of her pants pocket. She felt guilty. Lying to Maura rarely came natural anymore, not since she promised to be everything she needed her to be. "I'll see you later."

Maura nodded, already closing the door as she returned to her work.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author Note** **: Well, I guess people must have dropped off. After a good start I've not had as much response. I suppose that's life. Hopefully I'll get the new chapter up soon, but it's my birthday tomorrow and I have bits to write for the next one. I hope you enjoy this one all the same.**

* * *

The sun gleamed through the curtains, blinding Jane. Maura pulled the curtains one at a time away from their closed position. Jane rolled over in bed and pulled a pillow over the back of her head. She burrowed her face against the mattress.

"Time to get up," Maura said.

"Five more minutes," Jane moaned, her voice muffled by the bedsheets.

"It's ten in the morning and you've had your lie in. It's rare we get a day off together, and I want to spend it as a family."

Jane rolled onto her back, groaning with every movement. "As long as 'as a family' doesn't include my mother."

"Rico and I have already had breakfast, done finger painting, and vacuumed the living room."

"So?" Jane tried to sit up, but she couldn't. She pulled the bedsheets around her and nuzzled her face against them. "D'ya want a medal?"

"Rico wanted you to see the picture he made for you."

Scoffing, Jane rolled her eyes and stared at Maura. She stood at the foot of the bed with her arms folded, her hair and makeup already done, and a yellowy smudge of food on her shoulder. "Rico does, or you do?"

"Your son would like to see you on your day off," Maura said.

"Don't start a fight," Jane muttered, slipping further under the bedcovers.

"I'm not starting a fight."

"Really?" Jane held the sheets up against her chin. "'Your son would like to see you on your day off.' Well sometimes we don't get what we want, it's a lesson he needs to learn."

"He's six months old, Jane, it's not a lesson he needs to learn yet."

"Maybe it's a lesson you need to learn." She rolled back onto her stomach and pulled the pillow across her head again.

The soft tapping of Maura's foot against the carpet alerted her to Maura's frustration. Jane closed her eyes. She hated when she was like that. If she was Maura, she'd be thinking her own behaviour was petulant too. She knew it, and yet she didn't move.

"Are you going to be rude to me again, or are you going to get out of bed?"

"Neither."

"You can't stay here all day."

"Can't I?"

With gritted teeth, Maura sighed. "Fine. If that's what you want, Rico and I will go out and leave you here."

"It is. Bye."

The foot tapping didn't disappear. Jane steadied herself for the follow up. She closed her eyes and focused on the softness of the bedsheets. When Maura spoke again, her voice was filled with sympathy. "Jane…"

"Are you going or will you ruin my day further?" Jane snapped, throwing the bedsheets away from her body and sitting up.

Without a word, Maura pursed her lips and stared at Jane briefly, before turning around and leaving the room. Her heart ached. She wanted to follow her, to pull her into her arms and tell her how sorry she was. Instead, she cocooned herself further and lay back down. At least if she slept some more, maybe she'd feel better.

x

Four hours later, Maura entered the bedroom with Rico on her hip to find Jane in the exact same position as she was in hours before. Jane rolled onto her back, tears pricked at her eyes. The look on Maura's face was not of anger, or condescension, like she expected. She perched on the edge of the bed, putting Rico between herself and Jane.

"Have you moved at all?" she asked, slipping off her shoes and lifting her feet onto the bed.

Jane shook her head. She closed her eyes and listened to the garbling noises that Rico made. Sniffling, she swiped at her face.

"Please don't shut me out," Maura said, trailing her fingers across Jane's wrist.

She opened her eyes and looked into Maura's. Teardrops moved, uncontrolled, down her cheeks. Her leg shook under the covers. Jane lifted a hand up to Rico's face. She ran it across his chin and over the back of his hair.

"Did you have a nice day?" she asked, her voice small and strained.

Maura leaned closer, imprisoning Rico between them. "It would have been better if you'd been with us."

Jane rubbed the tears into her skin, conscious of the flatness in her voice. "What did you do?"

"We went to the aquarium and watched the seals and sea lions."

A bout of fresh tears strolled down Jane's nose, working their way into the end of her nostril. "I missed his first visit to the aquarium?"

"I'm sorry," Maura said, reaching out a hand and wiping tears from Jane's face. "I was mad at you for the way you were behaving. I should have considered the reason why before I took that away from you."

She shrugged. "I probably shouldn't have shouted at you."

"No."

"I'm sorry too."

"If it's any consolation, we avoided the turtles. I figured you might want to take him to see them yourself."

"Why would I want to do that?" Jane asked, tugging Maura's hand under the side of her face.

Maura raised an eyebrow. "Don't you want to teach our son the difference between turtles and tortoises?"

"They're all turtles," Jane said, forcing herself to smile.

"See!"

"Thank you."

Sitting upright, Maura rested a hand on Rico's back. "Can I leave him here with you while I get started on dinner?"

"No." Jane slipped an arm around Maura's waist and pulled her as close as she could. "Let's order in. Stay."

Settling down beside her, Jane lifted Rico onto her stomach and wrapped her arms around Maura. The day had dragged on in boredom and restlessness. She didn't know how to repair the damage she'd caused without Maura being there, and even then, she felt helpless.

"Okay, we can do that."

x

She relinquished her gun at security and made her way down the dimly lit corridor towards the visitor room. Every step closer was a step towards...something. She didn't know what, she just felt like it mattered. Marco Capello, whoever he was, was important. She could feel it.

"Pass," an officer said, as though walking in from the visitor entrance and down the corridor could make her anything but.

She held it out and smiled at him. He opened the door, letting her into the room. "Thanks."

The room was full of tables. Several prisoners sat twiddling their thumbs or talking with their visitor. One man tried to kiss the woman across the table, then went for it when the officer's back was turned only to be hauled back through a door.

"Alright there," a man smirked on his way into the room. His eyes lingered a moment too long on her body. If she'd been out in the street she'd have shouted at him. Inside, she didn't know what he was there for, and as a result, what he was capable of in the split second before a guard could protect her.

Across the room a man sat alone, his hands clasped together on top of the table. His silence spoke volumes in a room of chaos. He lifted his gaze, his brown eyes locked with Jane's. She backed away. He was important. She knew it before, the feeling strengthened as she stared into his eyes.

He was the man in her head.

His hair was greying and the lines around his eyes deepened, but he was definitely the same person. She collided with the wall, the door handle smashed into her left hip. She reached down and gripped it, twisting it repeatedly until an officer finally scanned a panel and the door opened, freeing her from the prison of the visitor's room.

The corridor back towards the exit increased in temperature until it was unbearable. She didn't stop until she was back out in the shade. Her heart boomed against her chest fighting for attention. She swallowed gulp after gulp of cool air, until her heart slowed once more.

x

The afternoon disappeared into night and before Jane knew it, it was eight in the evening. She unlocked the front door of the house and went inside, entirely unprepared for Maura's frustrations.

"You missed saying goodnight to your son," she shouted, before Jane had even reached the living room.

She shrugged, dropping her keys onto the table by the door. Her chest ached from pushing down tears.

"You were not at work; Korsak said you've been gone all afternoon. He expected you to return and you never came back. You weren't here when I got home. You were supposed to pick Rico up from Angela's hours ago. I agreed to a drink with an old friend weeks ago, and instead I had to care for our son."

She marched past her. Her throat ached. She couldn't speak. Despite her nonchalance, she hated missing Rico's bedtime, and worrying Maura was the last thing she wanted to do. She knew how important catching up with her friend was, and yet she couldn't find the words to apologise. She pulled open the fridge and stared at the contents, not even sure what she wanted. Normally she'd grab a beer after work, but even that didn't feel right.

"Your son needs to see you," Maura said, following her into the kitchen. "You can't check out just because you're going through something."

"I'm not," she whispered, but her voice betrayed her. She couldn't hold it in any longer. Leaning forward, she gripped hold of the fridge door and lowered her head against it. Tears flowed down her cheeks, falling from her nose and onto the floor.

" _Jane_." Maura stepped closer and rested a hand on Jane's shoulder. The comforting act only made it worse. Jane's shoulders shook. The tears increased and she couldn't speak, her throat hurt too much. "This has gone on too long. You need to see a therapist."

Shaking her head, Jane twisted round and stared at her, her tear stained cheeks red raw. "I just need a hug."

"That won't fix things," Maura said, distancing herself slightly.

She shrugged. Every word felt twice as hard to speak. "How do you know when we don't even know what's broken?"

"I'm not going to deny you my love and support." Maura closed the gap, pushing the fridge door fully closed and wrapping her arms around Jane's back. She rested her chin on her shoulder as fresh tears dropped from her face. "But we can't keep doing this. You keep falling apart in front of me, sometimes anger, sometimes tears. I love you and I want to help you but you won't accept any help."

"Please, Maura. Tonight." She clung to her tightly. "Just, let's go to bed."

"It's barely eight."

"I don't want to sleep."

" _Oh_." Maura frowned, separating herself from Jane. "Masking your feelings with sex won't make things better."

She attempted to close the gap, but Maura folded her arms. "Tonight it will."

"Okay," she said, trailing her fingers down Jane's tear stained cheek. "As long as you consider therapy."

"I'll consider it."

x

Silence descended on them like a ton of bricks, in the briefest moment the atmosphere changed and Maura pulled away. "You don't intend to consider therapy, do you?"

"I've considered it," Jane said, clinging to Maura's arms, clinging to the intimacy absent from their play. Her low mood swallowed the last hour whole. A crease formed between Maura's eyebrows. The orgasm Jane pretended to have failed to persuade Maura. She could see it in her eyes, and it hurt. The only comfort was Maura's silence. "I just don't wanna do it."

Maura untangled herself and sat up, her legs dangled over the side of the bed, her toes dug into the carpet. She stared at the floor. She didn't need to say she was angry for Jane to know it to be true. "Saying something to appease me so I'll sleep with you is not okay."

"Please don't fight me on this," Jane said, crawling towards her and resting a hand on her shoulder. Touch was her only source of repair, everything else felt pointless.

"I'm not." Maura twisted her head round. "It's your decision. I don't appreciate your half-truths to get me to do something you want."

Jane sighed. "I'm sorry. Talking about it won't help. It won't change it."

"It might do."

"It might not."

"No. But the results of psychotherapy are proven to last longer than psychopharmacological treatments. The more work you do now, the less likely you will require additional treatment at a later date. Doing nothing will guarantee intervention is needed at some point in the future."

Chewing on her bottom lip, Jane shrugged. "Sometimes people snap out of it."

"Where have you read that?"

"I haven't."

"If it's not peer reviewed…"

"Maura," Jane said, shaking her head. " _Don't_."

She sighed and rolled onto her back, her lips pressed tightly together as she shut off her bedside lamp. "Okay. Goodnight."

Darkness descended, leaving Jane sat up on the bed, the cool night air tingled against the bare skin of her breasts. She sighed and curled up under the bedsheets. "Night."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author Note** **: Thanks to everyone who has commented and who is still here reading, it is always nice to hear your thoughts.**

Angela was in the dining room when Jane walked in. She lifted a spoon of cereal up to her mouth and glanced over her newspaper. She smiled her usually cheerful smile and looked around her.

"No Rico?"

"That's all I'm good for now, is it?" Jane asked, gritting her teeth.

"Of course not." She slipped out from behind the table and wrapped her arms around Jane's shoulders. She kissed her on the cheek. "Good morning, baby girl."

"Less of the baby," Jane said. "It grates now I have my own."

"Good morning Jane Clementine," she said, smirking.

Jane rolled her eyes. Her patience was wearing thin. As much as she didn't mind small talk with her mother, she did mind when she had to get to work and needed to talk. "Is Ron here?"

"He's at work."

"I saw him."

Angela returned to the table, barely glancing up as she asked "Ron?"

"The man I've been remembering."

She stopped mid-spoonful of cereal. The spoon hovered in the air above the bowl, abandoned on its aim of her mouth. She dropped the spoon, splashing milk over the table. "How?"

"He saw me in the newspaper. He asked me to visit him."

"You _visited_ him?" she asked. Her face flashed red, her eyes narrowed.

"I didn't know what else to do." Jane frowned. Her response was not the one she expected, not that she had any idea how she would react. "He's in my head, Ma. I needed to do something."

As quickly as the anger and shock came, it dissipated. Angela picked up her spoon, and before putting it into her mouth asked "What did he say?"

"Nothing." Jane slouched into a chair across the table. "I got as far as the door. He's not nobody. I don't know who he is but I know that much. Who is he?"

"I don't know."

"His name is Marco Capello. Does that name ring any bells? I don't recognise it. He can't be related to us."

"No. I don't know."

"You _do_ know."

She shook her head, staring so deeply into her eyes. "I don't."

"You're lying."

"I'm not a suspect, Jane," Angela whispered, her voice weakened by the exchange. "You can't interrogate me."

Her fist balled at her side, Jane spat out her words. "I wouldn't need to if you told me the truth."

"I told you, I don't know. Now can we drop it?" She stood up and walked around the table, heading for the door.

"No we can't drop it," Jane said, following her towards the door and grasping at her arm. Two pairs of eyes, so similar, locked. "Would it help if I looked at his file and printed off a photo?"

"No!" Angela snatched her hand away. "Don't do that."

"Why not?"

" _Okay_." She shrugged and turned away. "I remember him. He's nobody."

"If he's nobody then why is he such a strong memory from being a kid?"

"I don't know, Janie." She picked up her bowl and headed for the door. "He lived on our street, like I said."

"Right." She didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

In the doorway, Angela paused, turned back and glanced at her. Jane stared into her eyes again, desperate to understand where her head was at. "That's all there is to say. He probably came in the house sometimes to borrow things from your father."

"That's what I'm remembering?" Jane asked.

"Sure."

x

"Korsak, suspect's heading west towards Babcock Avenue, meet us on the other side," Frankie shouted into his cell, shoving it into his pocket as he sprinted down an alley. Jane followed, her heart racing as she chased them both towards the main road.

"Keep going Frankie," she shouted, cheering him on, knowing full well that she was just a step too far back to reach him.

The main road was in sight. The man's long blonde hair flew backwards like a tiny cape. He was fast. Faster than Jane could manage. Frankie kept the pace.

 _Feet pounded the dirt track. Long, slender legs pulsed with every movement as they took the impact. She stared at him, her eyes wide through the window of the car. A smaller, chubby man couldn't keep up, until the other man tumbled and he kicked him swiftly in the side._

"You with me?" Frankie shouted, as he sprinted towards the road. The man took a couple of steps across the street. "Jane?"

She stared at him, at the movement of his jacket. Her head a fog of words that didn't make sense. Her heart thumped against her chest. She flew up behind him, still not close enough.

"Jane. You got my back?"

She stumbled forward, gripping the edge of the brick wall on the corner of the street, and stopped. Her legs weakened. She tried to regain her breath.

Frankie stepped out into the road, glancing on both sides as he fled between two parked cars. "Jane?"

He ran across the tarmac. A car passed in front of him. He sped forward, almost reached the other sidewalk. The man fled down the street. The moped appeared out of nowhere. Jane stared at it, her throat closed over, she tried to shout, but she couldn't even breathe.

Frankie's foot landed on the opposite sidewalk, his body on the edge of the road as the moped failed to slow, clipping him, sending him sprawling across the sidewalk.

"Frankie!" Korsak shouted, rounding another corner. He dodged traffic and landed on the other side as the moped ground to a halt. Jane's body kicked itself into action and she followed him to Frankie's side.

"Get the perp, Jane!" Frankie shouted, a long groan followed, he clutched his arm. She hesitated. The moped driver had stopped, was crouched down trying to help him, her eyes wide and panicked.

"I've got Frankie, Jane, go!" Korsak shouted.

Jane stared a moment too long, and when she tried to set off again, she couldn't see the perp anywhere. She rested her hands on her knees, struggling to recapture her breath. "He's gone."

"No!" Korsak shouted, kneeling beside Frankie. "Jane, go!"

She shook her head, glancing into the distance where he'd vanished. Deep down she knew she should continue, but she couldn't breathe. She lowered herself onto the floor beside her brother.

"You okay?" the moped driver asked, pulling off her helmet, a tangle of red curls sprang out in all directions. "I'm so sorry! You came out of nowhere. I am so sorry."

"I'm okay," Frankie said, attempting to sit up.

Korsak rested a hand across his back. He stared at Jane. "What are you still doing here, Jane?"

"He's gone," she repeated, knowing full well that she had let him get away. She cupped her head in her hands and stared at the ground.

"We nearly had him!" Korsak rested a hand under Frankie's arm and pulled him to his feet. Frankie groaned loudly, clutching his elbow.

"I'm sorry," she said, swiping at fresh tears as they strolled down her cheeks. She cleared her throat and stood up, wrapping a hand around his waist. "Let's get you to the hospital."

"Okay." Korsak said. "But then you and I need to talk."

x

Arms and legs tangled up in bedsheets and each other, Jane rested her head against Maura's chest, feeling the rise and fall of every breath. If she didn't look at her, she wouldn't have to see the disappointment of her lack of genuine orgasm again. She tangled Maura's hair around her finger, loosening it, before doing it again repeatedly.

Maura trailed a hand across her back, her fingers moved up and down her spine. "You need to talk to someone."

"I don't need to do anything," Jane said. "I'll get over it soon."

"How long is soon?" Maura cupped the back of her head. "You've been withdrawn for weeks."

"I thought I just gave you an orgasm?"

"You did, but that doesn't mean you're not withdrawn."

"Didn't sound like it twenty minutes ago."

Maura sighed, her shoulders dropped, disappointment in her voice. "Your mental state does not reflect your ability to pleasure me. It does, however, affect your ability to be pleasured. You are not okay and I want to help you."

Jane's walls moved up, desperate to protect herself from the things Maura said. She knew Maura knew her orgasm was faked, but she wasn't ready to hear her say so out loud. Logically she knew she was right, but emotionally she didn't want to have to deal with it. She needed to let her help, if only to appease Maura.

"I don't know, okay?" Jane shrugged and untangled herself. "I don't know what to do. I don't know how to change this."

Pulling her back into her arms, Maura pressed her lips to the side of her head and held her close. Jane closed her eyes, relishing in the moment of intimacy that far outweighed the sexual contact they'd just had. "That's why I think you should talk to someone. Don't push me away, not when you're hurting."

"But I don't want to talk to someone," Jane said, conscious of the vulnerability of her voice. "I can handle this."

"I don't think you can, just look at what happened with Frankie, it's affecting all areas of your life. Korsak won't accept you walking out of the hospital and refusing to discuss what happened. You need to confront it, not ignore it."

The words came out terser than Jane expected, leaving her feeling guilty. "I'll be fine."

"That's what I'm worried about." Maura wrapped her arms around her back and kissed the side of her head again. "Fine for you isn't okay, Jane. The sooner you acknowledge that and ask for help the better."

"I am asking for help. You're helping me."

Maura sighed. "I'm not a trained professional."

"All I need is for you to listen to me."

"I am."

"You're telling me what to do," Jane said, sitting up, a flash of rage coursed its way through her body. She clung to the bedsheets like her life depended on it. Maura's arms dropped from her back to the bed.

She pushed herself up with her elbows, fragility in her voice. "I'm trying to help."

"That doesn't help," Jane shouted.

"Okay." Maura sat up straighter and leaned back against the headboard. Confidence returned to her voice. "Talk to me and I will listen."

Jane shrugged and crossed her legs. She wrapped the bedsheets around her chest, desperate to hide herself away as much as feasibly possible. Despite the need to hide, she pushed herself. Maura needed something, no matter how unwilling she was. "Something doesn't feel right but I can't explain it. It's like something's changed."

"What's changed?"

"I don't know what's changed," Jane snapped, berating herself for her harsh tone. "I just know something has. I get up and I feel different. I go to work and I can't focus. I come home and I just want to climb in bed and go to sleep."

Maura pursed her lips, her eyes narrowed at Jane. "When you wake up, do you want to get up?"

"No. I want to stay in bed all day."

"You're irritable."

"I've always been irritable," Jane said, rolling her eyes.

"More than usual."

"Yeah."

Reaching for her hand, Maura stroked the back of it with her fingertips, slow and methodical. "It sounds like you could be depressed."

"I'm not depressed," Jane said, snatching her hand back and turning away. She dropped her legs over the side of the bed and stood up. She couldn't be.

"You fit several symptoms of depression."

Picking up her clothes from the floor, Jane folded up her pants and placed the rest into the washing basket. "Now you're gonna tell me to see a shrink again, aren't you?"

"No. I heard what you said; I won't force that on you unless you're ready for it." She climbed out of the bed and wrapped her nightgown around her waist. She pulled the sheet from the bed. "How long have you felt like this? What started it off?"

Sitting down on the edge of the mattress, Jane dropped her head into her hands. "The shooting of that kid."

"Are you sure this isn't about Rico?" Maura walked around the bed and perched beside her, pulling the sheet around her naked torso. "Having a child is a massive adjustment; I know I've struggled since the shooting. All I want to do is protect him."

Jane hesitated. She needed to be honest, but honesty would hurt Maura. A hand rested on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. She turned her head. Maura smiled a gentle, comforting smile and pulled the bedsheets tightly around her. She swallowed. "All I've wanted to do is avoid him."

Maura pressed her lips together. A flash of emotion Jane couldn't place spread across her face then vanished. Concern replaced it. She squeezed her other shoulder and pulled her against her. "That's not healthy."

"I know."

"I don't want you to wake up in a few years' time and regret the time you've spent distancing yourself from him. He won't go away."

"I don't want him to," she whispered, her voice cracked. "I love him."

Maura sighed, wrapping her other arm across Jane's front to join her hand on her shoulder. "I know you do."

"I just can't bring myself to laugh and joke with him like I used to."

"Being a parent isn't easy."

"Some days it's harder than I thought it would be."

"And some days it's easier."

"It was." Jane lowered her head, her chin rested on Maura's arm. "Now it's all I think about, failing him. What you said before about wanting to protect him, I want that too but I know I can't."

Maura didn't say anything. A moment of silence lingered between them. Tears fell from Jane's eyes, landing on Maura's arm.

"I don't think I'll ever be enough for him."

"You're plenty enough," Maura said, cradling her face. "You're his Ma and he loves you."

"I wish I could show him."

"You do."

She shook her head so abruptly that Maura pulled back slightly. "I think I've forgotten how to."

" _Jane_."

An ever increasing flow of tears forced their way down her face, the floodgates opened. She gripped the bedsheets against her thighs, clenching her fists around them. She pushed the anger back down, squeezing the frustration away until her hands ached. "I'm a mess. I'm a _fucking_ mess."

"You're not alone," Maura said, covering her hands. Jane loosened her grip and turned her hands over, clutching Maura's fingers gently. "I'm here for you, and we'll get through this."

"I don't deserve you," Jane said, staring into her loving eyes. All she'd ever done was love her and Jane treated her like dirt.

"If you won't see a therapist to talk, will you at least make an appointment to get a script for medication? It might help."

Jane shrugged. "Won't they just get me to talk?"

"They can't force you to do anything you don't want. Maybe if you deal with the change in your mood, the imbalance of your hormones, with medication, it will help you to see the way forward."

"I'm not crazy." Jane lifted her knees onto the bed and cradled them close. "I don't want anyone to think I'm crazy."

"Nobody thinks you're crazy. You're going through something that lots of people go through. You don't need to feel ashamed of your emotions."

"I dunno how else to feel."

"I can come with you." She clutched her hand tightly. "We can do this together."

"Okay." She heaved a sigh; a sense of relief settled her fractured thoughts momentarily. "Thank you."


	6. Chapter 6

**Author Note** **: Thanks for the comments and especially for reading my story. I attempt to create tension, and build it up slowly, rather than throwing it all on a plate for the world to see. I believe fiction is about pulling out the detail for yourself, as the reader, and I don't believe I should write stories that are easy. I definitely won't apologise for that. If you don't like stories that dig a little deeper into people, and their worlds, then my stories probably aren't for you. That's a choice you have to make as the reader, whether you're here or whether you'd rather find something that's easy and surface level.**

* * *

The interrogation room was too hot. Jane's throat ached, in an attempt to push away the impending threat of tears. She slouched in her seat, barely glancing at Korsak as he stood, staring at her. A new letter from Marco Capello burned a hole in her pocket.

"I've tried to be patient. I've tried to make allowances. But you're stepping into dangerous territory."

Jane shrugged. "I said I was sorry."

"Sorry doesn't cut it when your brother breaks his wrist, and a perp is able to flee the damn state," Korsak shouted, his voice loud and threatening. She'd only ever heard him speak that way to suspects, to criminals.

Jane slouched a little further in her chair, chewing on the inside of her lip to stop the tears from falling. "I fucked up."

"You did." He crossed his arms. "Cavanaugh's after your blood. He wants you put on leave until you get your shit together."

She sat upright quickly, her eyes wide, her heart thumped. She rubbed her eyes, couldn't control the droplets of tears skirting around her eyes. "No! You can't."

Korsak sighed and perched on the edge of the table. He rested a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. His voice softened. "You're not being being put on leave, Jane. But he sees what's happening, he seen this spiral too many times with good cops. If you don't sort yourself out soon, I won't be able to stop this."

She bit down on the inside of her lip and swiped at her cheeks. "Thanks."

He sighed again, and patted her on the back. "You've got an hour to get yourself back into the bullpen. Do whatever you need to do, but when you come back you need to have your head in the game. Okay?"

"Okay."

x

Maura was wrist deep in the cavity of their latest murder victim when Jane walked in. She watched her for a moment, enjoyed seeing her in her element as she carefully removed organs one by one.

"He wants me to go see him again," she said, filling the silence with the only thing on her mind.

Stepping back, her gloves covered in bodily fluid, Maura narrowed her eyes in Jane's direction. "Who?"

A lump formed in the back of Jane's throat. The conversation the night before had left her in a position of wanting to be truthful, so much so that Jane had forgotten that Maura didn't know.

"Marco Capello," she said, pushing the lump down. It was too late now. "The man I visited in jail a few weeks ago."

"The…" Maura stared at her, her mouth agape, her hands still soaked in fluid.

Jane grabbed some paper towels and handed them to Maura. "What do you think I should do?"

Wiping her gloves, Maura slipped them off her hands and turned her full attention to Jane, pressing pause on her audio recording. "You can start by telling me why you have been keeping this from me. Is this why you were home late?"

" _Yes_." She pursed her lips. "I'm _sorry_. I forgot I didn't tell you. I got a letter, he asked me to visit."

Clearing her throat, Maura's voice was toneless. "Who is he?"

"I don't," Jane shrugged, shaken by the lack of emotion in Maura's voice. "I don't know. I couldn't speak to him, I just left. Ma said he's some neighbour from when I was a kid, but I don't know if that's true. I remember him. He's been in my head for weeks and I don't know how to make him stop."

Maura's lips tightened. "I don't understand what you're saying, Jane."

"I'm sorry." She stepped forward, resting a hand against Maura's elbow. "He's in my head. One minute I'm working on a case and the next it's like my mind pinpoints a memory from when I was small."

Straightening up, Maura distanced herself, tossing the balled up gloves from one hand to the other. Her voice was still cold, leaving Jane fighting the urge to stop talking. "What happens in these memories?"

"I don't know." Jane shook her head. "They're not complete thoughts, they're more like concepts; smelling the grass in the summer, staring at the bristles of hair in his beard, intense sadness."

A flicker of emotion passed across Maura's face, before she pushed it away again. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I dunno." She opened the top of the disposal bin.

Maura tossed the gloves inside and folded her arms. "What do you want to do?"

"I dunno."

"Had I realised there was something more pertinent involved in your depression, I would have perhaps been able to advise you better. Given how much it's been playing on your mind, I suppose the benefit of seeing him could be significant."

"Or it could be a total waste of my time."

"Angela won't tell you anything other than the fact he lived near you?"

" _Stop_." Jane stepped closer, Maura balked. She didn't want to cry, but she couldn't stop herself. "You're talking but you're angry. I can see it."

" _Yes. I'm angry._ " Her teeth pressed together. "You kept this from me for _weeks_ even though it's clearly been one reason why you've been falling apart."

"I haven't been falling apart." Jane sighed and brushed the tears away. "Much. I'm sorry. I want your help, that's why I'm here."

Maura shook her head. "I just don't understand why you didn't come to me first."

"I tried. Then I didn't. I fucked it up." Tears pricked at her eyes. She gritted her teeth and wiped her cheeks again. "I hated keeping it from you. I hate not knowing who he is."

Maura walked around the table and rested a hand on Jane's shoulder. Jane shivered as she trailed her fingers down her arm and cupped her hand. She squeezed back, her voice softened. "Maybe you could ask him to tell you?"

"Cut out the mothership?" Jane raised an eyebrow. "She wouldn't like that."

"I don't know what other option you have. This man has some significance; otherwise he wouldn't have provoked such a strong reaction or memory. I don't want my being angry to make it harder for you to recover, so we're going to decide what to do. What does your instinct say?"

"That I should go." She shrugged. Feeling something and knowing it to be the right thing were two very different things. "But it might not be a good idea."

"You trust your instincts in your policing," Maura said. "Perhaps you should take a note out of your own book."

Loosening her grip on Maura's hand, Jane turned around and stared into the face of the man on the slab. One body felt so much easier to witness than another. "Why do you always make so much sense?"

"Always?" Maura walked around the table.

"When you're not using your big phrases and scientific terms," Jane said, smirking. She caught her eye; the smile fought itself into a full grin. If she was a soppy person, she'd have told her how much she loved her.

Before Jane could find the words, Maura jumped in. "I'm merely analysing the situation from the outside. Had I had access to all pieces of the puzzle before today, perhaps I could have been more sympathetic."

"It's not your fault I didn't tell you. I wish I could do that," she said, leaning closer to the man's pale and lifeless face.

"Analyse the situation?"

"Yeah. Or be on the outside." He didn't move, as expected. The bright light coated him in a white hue. "I'm sick of feeling like I have no control over...anything."

"Hopefully Marco Capello will be able to help with that." Maura reached for a fresh pair of gloves. Jane could see her time coming to an end, and she was happy to let Maura return to her work. "I can come with you, if you need some support."

"Nah." She didn't know if she wanted that or not. She assigned the immediate response to her stubbornness. Jane shrugged. "I should do this alone."

x

 _Two candles were lit on a birthday cake. Chocolate frosting. Two sugar stars and a sugar moon were pressed into the top. She stared at it in wonder, like it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. She stared up into the eyes of the man, holding the cake out to her with a massive grin on her face._

"Jane?"

She shook her head and looked into those same eyes, a few extra creases at the corners. He sat at a table a metre away. She walked the last few feet and sat down. "Yeah."

"It's...so good to see you," he said, staring at her like he'd stared at her that day.

A feeling encapsulated her, squeezing out breath until she forced it back into her lungs. "Is it?"

"You've grown."

A lump formed in her throat, pushed down as she swallowed. Her emotions threatened her stability. She cleared her throat and clasped her hands together on the table between them. "Look, I didn't really come here for pleasantries. I'm here to ask you who you are."

A wave of sadness flashed across his face. "Angela hasn't told you?"

"No." She shrugged. "She refuses to say anything more than that you lived nearby."

He scoffed. "Nearby. Yeah."

"So?"

"You really should be asking your mother."

"I told you, I tried and she refused to talk." She leaned forward, staring into his eyes. Something so familiar battled with the lack of information in her brain. "I'm asking you."

"I'm not surprised," he said, slouching forward. "How is the old broad?"

"Happy."

"Frank still keeping her on her toes?"

She cleared her throat. "No."

"What happened?" He looked panicked for a moment. Jane couldn't keep staring at him. She glanced past his head at a vacant table across the room. "He didn't die, did he?"

"He's lucky he didn't," she said, scoffing. She quickly remembered where she was, who she was talking to, and regretted saying something so revealing.

"Divorce?" The brief link between their eyes was enough for his confirmation, and Jane regretted it instantly. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she said, moving her fingers across each palm one at a time, absentmindedly playing with her scars.

"Who's got her so happy these days?"

Righting her earlier mistakes, she sat up taller and stared into his eyes. "That's none of your business."

"No," he said, shrugging. "S'ppose not."

x

Entering The Dirty Robber, Jane made a beeline for the bar, and her mother behind it. "I went back to the jail; you have a lot of explaining to do."

Her eyes wide, her face ashen, Angela whispered "What did he say?"

"Nothing." She stared her down, desperate for information. "Seems to think I should ask you. But I asked you and you won't say anything, so _start talking_."

"I have nothing to say to you." Angela walked around the bar with her tray and picked up a couple of glasses from a nearby table. She ran her cloth across the surface then moved on.

Jane followed her around the room. "Bullshit. You're forgetting I know you. I know when you're lying, and you're lying. Who is he? Why is he asking me to visit him?"

"I have nothing to say," she said, retrieving another glass and placing it on her tray. She wiped down the table.

"You have nothing, he has nothing," Jane shouted, not caring how many pairs of eyes focused their attention on her. "The only person with nothing here is me."

"You're making a scene," she said, her voice quieter. She carried the tray back to the bar, Jane close behind. "Drop it, Jane."

"Okay." Gritting her teeth, she stared her down. "Then you can drop seeing your grandson until you tell me."

She knew which buttons to push to get her mother to act, but when she shrugged her shoulders and walked to the other end of the bar, Jane was stumped. She was so sure her threat would work that she wasn't prepared for the moment when it failed. Clenching her fist, she let out a frustrated groan and marched out of the bar.

x

"What have you done?" Angela shouted as she pushed her way into the house. She paused, Rico stared at her, his eyes wide. She leaned forward and cupped his cheek, pressing her lips to his skin. "Not you. Nonna loves you, my sweet boy."

"What have I done?" Jane asked, untangling her mother from her son and carrying him back into the living room. She lowered him into his high chair and worked on buckling him up. "I haven't done anything."

"Marco has requested that I visit him," Angela said, not lowering her tone. She marched across the room and poured herself a mug of coffee. "You couldn't leave well enough alone, could you? I told you there was nothing but you just had to try to find out, didn't you? Put your detective hat down for a moment and consider how this makes me feel. That man is bad news."

Narrowing her eyes, Jane placed a plate of oatmeal in front of Rico. She sat beside him and lifted a spoonful, blowing on the hot breakfast. "How am I supposed to know what kind of news he is? You won't tell me."

"Don't turn this back around on me." Angela sat beside her and nursed her mug of coffee.

"It's already on you, Ma. You're keeping something from me and I don't know why." Rico opened his mouth. She moved the spoon forward until most of the oatmeal had been transferred. "I don't think he's a neighbour at all. He looks too familiar to be some random man who lived down the street. Is he an uncle, or cousin, or something?"

"You really wanna know?"

"Yes, I really wanna know."

"He's your father."


	7. Chapter 7

**Author Note : Thanks for reading and for the comments. This story idea excited me so much when I originally started writing it. I'm glad you're enjoying it, at least some.**

* * *

" _What_?" The spoon landed in the oatmeal, splashing creamy mush onto the tray. She stared at Angela, her heart raced. Beside her, Rico dipped a hand into the bowl, lifting his fingers to his mouth and covering it in beige mush. She swallowed and forced the words out, weaker than intended. "Frank's my father."

"Yes."

Croaking, she felt her resolve crumble. "You're gonna have to give me more than that, Ma."

"Frank's your father," Angela said, sending a sense of relief through Jane. "He was there for every birthday, every sports game. He's the dad that matters."

Her hands shook. A lump reformed in her throat. She tried to pick up Rico's spoon but her hands moved uncontrollably. "But he's not."

"No." Her heart sunk. In the briefest moment everything had changed. "Biologically, no."

Jane watched Rico for a moment. He moved oatmeal from the bowl to his mouth, making a mess of his clothes, and the tray. She picked up a cloth from the table and attempted to wipe his hands, but he only dipped his fingers back into the bowl again.

"Jane," Angela whispered.

"Get out," she cried, failing to control her emotions.

"But, Jane…"

She shook her head, abandoning attempts to clean up her son. She stood, her heart raced, her chest ached. "You can't come here and tell me this after _forty_ years. Get out of my house."

"I need to explain," Angela said.

Shaking her head vehemently, Jane closed her eyes. She couldn't even look at her, let alone listen to her explain. Tears built up on her eyelids. Forcing the words out, no matter how croaky, Jane shouted. "You need to leave. _Now_."

x

"Then the baby ducks went home to bed, the end," Jane said, pointing to the picture of ducks on the last page of the book. She closed it and placed it on the table beside her. Rico sat quietly in her arms, sucking away at his pacifier. She ran her hands across his back and rocked the chair back and forth.

"You are the everything I didn't know I wanted, Rico," she whispered. "Your Mama and I, we went through hell to get you and now...now I'm messing everything up. I love you, I've loved you since the moment you wrapped your tiny fingers around my thumb. We nearly didn't get you. We nearly got another kid, but she didn't work out. But you know what? Maybe this was how it was always supposed to go. You belong with us."

Salty tears strolled down her nose, skirting round the edge of her lip. She licked them away. She shook her head and kissed his forehead.

"I don't know what any of this means. Your Nonna has a lot to answer for. But maybe some things are starting to make sense. I hope I never upset you like this. I love Nonna, but I hate her a little bit right now. There's so many things that aren't okay. I need you to know that whatever happens, I will always love you first. Even if I'm mad, I'll still love you."

"What's going on?" Maura asked, concern etched in her voice.

Swiping at her cheek, Jane buried her face against Rico's short hair. Maura stepped towards her and pulled the baby out of her arms. Jane crossed one leg over the other and attempted to hide her face behind her hands. Maura carried Rico to his crib and put him inside. Returning to Jane, she pulled her to her feet.

"Frank's not my dad," she whispered.

Maura froze. "Pardon?"

"He's not my dad." She shrugged, fresh tears landed on her cheeks. Snaking an arm around Jane's back, Maura pulled her in close. "Some man I don't even know is. Marco Capello."

"The man you visited? I thought he wouldn't tell you anything."

She nodded, resting her chin against Maura's shoulder. "He asked Ma to go visit him and she was angry at me. I keep thinking about him, remembering things. He was there when I was little, for one of my birthdays. I can't remember much, but I remember him."

"What did Angela say?"

"Nothing." She stepped back and sat down in the chair. "I sent her home."

"Why?"

She shrugged. "This morning I knew everything. This afternoon I know nothing."

"More reason to hear her out."

"She lied to me for _forty_ years. I don't think I can look at her right now."

Maura perched on the arm of the chair. She ran a hand across Jane's cheek. "Knowing Angela, she had to have her reasons."

"Her reasons don't mean shit," Jane shouted.

"Jane!" Maura said, glancing at the baby.

" _No_." Jane shrugged her hand away. "How many times has she avoided telling me? She's had ample opportunity. She chose not to. She chose to hide the truth from me."

"Like I said…"

"She must have had her reasons, blah, blah, blah."

"Don't."

"Don't, what?"

"Don't push me away for trying to help."

"It's not helping. Right now I don't care about her reasons. What does any of this mean?" Jane stood. She moved to the window and looked out at the dark sky. She wanted to cry, could feel her emotions reach breaking point once more. "Frank isn't my pop. After everything we've been through. I thought Ma and I got closer after the divorce. Now there's a great big hole in my life."

Maura sighed. "This doesn't have to change anything."

"Bullshit." She gritted her teeth. "You know. You've been there."

"I always knew I was adopted."

"Then imagine finding out now," she said, turning round and staring into Maura's eyes. "Is she even my Ma? What if she's lying about that too?"

Maura tilted her head to one side. "Angela is your mother."

"How do you know?"

"Parentage is more than biology."

"But it matters, though, doesn't it?" Staring at her, Jane forced her to stare back. "Otherwise you wouldn't have wanted to find Paddy or Hope."

"I needed to understand where I came from," Maura said.

"Exactly."

"You've met your biological father."

Running her hands across her thighs, Jane leaned forward. The sickly feeling she'd felt immediately after the revelation returned. She shook her head. Every breath felt like it was moving through water, or rocks.

Breaking through fresh tears, Jane whispered "What if Rico feels like this?"

"What do you mean?" Maura asked.

Jane chewed on her bottom lip. "I'm not his mother."

"You _are_ his mother."

"He's yours and some stranger we don't even know," Jane said, standing upright again. "Biology matters."

"Does it?" Maura circled her palm across Jane's back. "The sperm donor will never know Rico. We are his parents, _you_ and me. I wanted to meet Paddy and Hope but I don't see them as family. You're my family. _You and Rico_ , Angela, Frankie, Vince, Tommy. I'm not related to any of you by blood, except Rico, and I don't feel poorer for it."

She tried to breathe harder but it only made it worse. Jane sobbed softly. "If it doesn't matter then why does this hurt so much?"

Maura scooped her back into her arms. "Does it hurt that Frank isn't your biological father, or does it hurt that neither he nor Angela told you the truth?"

"He's my Pop," Jane said, gasping for air. "He's supposed to be my flesh and blood. But he lied to me. They both lied to me. My whole life."

x

The night had drawn on like a vast ocean spread as far as the eye could see. The darkness had no end. The waves crashed against rocks, pulling them back into the white waters below; full of destruction, unwieldy, unfriendly.

 _A little boy with dark brown eyes and dark brown hair stared at her, curious, wondering. She stared back._

By one, Jane was exhausted. She climbed out of bed and stood in the doorway to Rico's bedroom, listening to the soft sounds of his breath as he slept. He was a far cry from that boy in both looks and, from what she remembered, temperament. He was as calm as the ocean on a hot summer's day. The boy...she didn't really know, but she knew he was not. She longed for the simplicity of childhood, where a nap could resolve everything and nothing really mattered as much as it felt like it did.

 _The boy chased her through the sand, his feet pounding the earth. She giggled. Her dark curls fell over her face. Stopping beside her, he took an elastic band from his wrist and pulled her hair back before tapping her on the shoulder and running off once more._

At seven, she banged on Angela's door, unwilling to accept her fate, and hopeful to share it with the person who caused her such distress.

"I need you to tell me, is he Frankie's dad too?" she said, one hand on the door frame and her other pointed out towards Angela's camisole.

"Frank?" Angela rubbed her sleepy eyes, a look of confusion on her face.

"Who is it?" Ron shouted from the other side of the house.

"Jane," she replied, letting go of the door.

Jane had no patience, no time to wait for her mother to wake fully. Her eyes ached from a lack of sleep but she persevered. "No. Marco."

Angela sighed. She stepped to one side and opened the door wider. Jane stared at her, expecting an answer. When no answer came, she followed her mother through the house and into the kitchen. Silently, she poured them each a mug of instant coffee.

"Ron hates that I drink this," she said. "Says I should have the proper stuff. He says 'You're Italian! Coffee is in your blood.'"

"Coffee _is_ in your blood," Ron said, pulling a night gown around his waist as he entered the kitchen. He looped an arm around Angela's stomach and kissed the side of her head. "Morning Jane, early start?"

"Something like that," she muttered, her teeth gritted together.

"Give us some privacy, would you?" Angela asked, running a hand over his stubbly cheek. He nodded, kissed her on the lips and left the room with her mug of coffee.

Angela proceeded to prepare a fresh mug. "He's right. I should drink the proper stuff."

"Is he Frankie's dad?" Jane shouted, slamming her palm down on the table, her patience disappeared completely. She turned around, conscious of where Ron might be. The room was empty.

Shaken, Angela cleared her throat. "No."

"Then why do I have memories of us together?" she asked through gritted teeth. "Me, him and Frankie. We were at the beach and Frankie was chasing me around."

Placing her mug on the table, Angela reached for Jane's hand. She let her. She stared into her eyes. The creases on her face had come in years ago, but for the first time it felt like she'd always been that old. Emotion crept up on Jane. She swallowed, pushing it back down. A sense of foreboding tainted the whole conversation.

With the tiniest of voice, Angela squeezed her hand. "That's not Frankie you're remembering."

"What?" She narrowed her eyes, snatching her fingers back. "Who is it?"

She swallowed; her voice no stronger than the last time she spoke. "Your brother."

"Tommy? But he's too old…"

"Not Tommy."

"Who?"

Clearing her throat again, Angela wiped at her cheek. "Your older brother."

"I…what?" Jane stared at her, like she hadn't heard the words. They wouldn't form. She couldn't grasp hold of them. They made little sense and she didn't know how to understand them.

With more conviction in her voice, Angela leaned forward. "You had an older brother."

Jane shook her head. The words made sense, but she still didn't understand. "Where is he? Why didn't you…?"

"He died."

Silence fell between them, uncomfortable, yet desperately needed. Jane tried to recall the boy's face. She could see the colour of his eyes, the way his hair curled like her own. Then a flash of blood. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and leaned forward.

"You were two." Angela took her hand again. "He was four. Your father shot him."

She snatched her hand back and looked up. She paled. Sickness crept up on her like she'd eaten something off and was about to pay the price. Her throat closed over. "…what?"

"That's why he went to jail," Angela said. "I don't know why he's still there. He said it was an accident. He took a plea and went inside for eight years. It wasn't long enough."

Tears coated Angela's skin. Jane wanted to reach out and brush them away. She didn't. She stared at her as her face reddened and her eyes grew blood shot.

"Not when I lost my baby," she whispered, swiping the back of her hand across her cheek.

"I don't understand. What are you saying?"

"We need to talk, properly." She picked up their mugs, even though Jane's was still full, and carried them to the counter. "I'll make some tea."

"No! I don't want tea!" Jane stood up and stared at her. She could feel her answers drifting away. Her anger barely shifted. "I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on. I thought that was it. That Pop isn't my dad. Now you're telling me I had an older brother and our real father killed him."

"Please, Jane." She returned to the table and patted Jane's seat. "Let's sit down and I'll tell you everything."

Arguments against sitting down filled her mind. She opened her mouth to speak. Ron appeared in the doorway. Angela waved him away again. Closing her mouth, Jane sat down. "Fine."

"I never planned to lie to you," Angela said, sitting beside her. "To keep the truth from you. I need you to know. You were so young and you went through something no toddler should have to go through."

"I could handle the truth."

"Could you? You didn't handle losing the baby with Casey, or your baby with Maura, or Barry."

"That's different." She choked back tears. "Barry was important to me, and losing mine and Maura's child when it was all we wanted…"

"I wanted to tell you." Angela bowed her head. "All those times you got mad at me for being how I was."

Sighing, Jane narrowed her eyes. The crease deepened. "It makes sense now."

"What does?"

"Why you didn't cut the strings much when I was little. Why you treated me differently to Frankie and Tommy."

"I didn't know if you didn't remember or if you just didn't want to talk about it."

"Why would I remember? I was too young."

"I didn't know how to talk to you about it without bringing everything back up."

 _Blood splattered overalls were held up in front of her and lowered into a large plastic bag. She sat there in her underwear; white vest and underpants, stained red. A doctor stood in front of her, shining a bright light into her eyes._

Her voice lost all conviction. "Was I there?"

"When?"

"When he died?"

Angela chewed her lip. "Yes."

"I…I remember." It flooded back to her as clear as the day Rico was born. Snippets of information that had she remembered before she knew. She wouldn't have understood the meaning. "I remembered the night Maura and I went to the baby shooting. That's why I felt the way I did. I was there when…what was his name?"

"Your brother?" A long silence followed before Angela whispered his name. "Rico."


	8. Chapter 8

**Author Note : Thank you, once again, for reading and commenting, etc. I'm so glad you're all enjoying this one, despite the heaviness. I appreciate each and every comment that has been sent, and just you all for reading it.**

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Leaning forward, a wave of emotion flooded her chest leaving her breathless. She sobbed, great gasping attempts at breath; it took a few minutes, but eventually, she calmed down enough to speak. "I didn't know…that's why you cried when we told you what we were naming the baby?"

"I thought it had to be a coincidence. We hadn't talked about him. I couldn't. After all those years it still hurt too much."

"I didn't understand why the name stayed with me." Guilt overwhelmed her. Regret. What fate had she given her son? She couldn't breathe; her chest ached, her heart hurt. "Why I felt it was the right name to choose."

Holding Jane's face in her hands, Angela brushed her hair back behind her ear "Rico would have been so proud to know you named your son after him."

"Ma." Her shoulders hunched. Scooping Jane into her arms, she nuzzled her face against her shoulder. "How did it happen?"

"I don't know. I only know what Marco told me. You were playing in the yard. You loved chasing Rico round, and he doted on you." Fresh tears landed on Jane's neck. They clung to each other like a moth to a flame. "Marco was doing work on the garden. We always left you with Rico in the yard. He looked after you and you played together."

A chill ran down Jane's spine. Another flash of memory. The floodgates opened. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut, her voice laced with tears. "Love you Eeko."

" _Oh Janie_. That's what you used to say."

"I know." She rubbed her eyes. "I remember now."

"Your father said he was cleaning his gun."

"Why did he even have a gun?"

"I don't know. I didn't know we had one until…it was too late."

"I got blood on my overalls."

"That's how I found you. At the hospital. You sat on a chair, your little legs dangling over the side. You didn't look at me, you didn't speak. You just stared ahead until the cops came and took your clothes and I carried you home. The police arrested your father and he admitted what happened. I took you home and overnight we went from a family of four to two. Just you and me. Broken. You didn't talk for nearly a year."

"When did you meet Pop?" Jane asked, fresh questions filling her mind, she could barely contain them. "Frankie's only three years younger than me."

"It was soon after. They tell you not to make big changes to your life after, but I already knew Frank. We met years before I married Marco. We met again and I fell in love. Your first words were when Frankie was born."

"What did I say?"

"My baby brother." Holding her in her arms, Jane pulled her back in tightly. She pressed her face against her mother's shoulder, retreating into a feeling of comfort she remembered from that day.

"That's when I knew you'd be okay. Frank officially adopted you and we changed your name so we could be a proper family. I never looked back, except when I thought about your brother Rico."

x

Lying on Maura's office couch, Jane flitted between sleep and wakefulness. The back and forth did nothing to settle her fractured mind. Maura sat down beside her desk and pulled out a file. Everything felt so different, and yet nothing at all had changed from their routine. Jane groaned and sat up, her elbows rested on her knees as she leaned forward.

"Are you okay?" Maura asked, standing up and carrying her medical bag across the room. "You look ill."

She sat on the couch, stationary, as Maura took her temperature and measured her heart rate. That in itself would worry Maura, she was not a good patient, and they both knew it.

"You heart rate is elevated. Your temperature is normal." She tidied the thermometer away in her bag. "I don't think there's anything physically wrong with you."

"I feel like there is," Jane whispered, lying back down. She closed her eyes and curled her knees up to her chest.

"You feel nauseous," Maura clarified. Jane nodded. "Any other symptoms?"

"Like there's a heavy weight on my chest. It hurts to breath."

"Any fatigue? Shortness of breath?"

"A little." Jane lay back down, her mouth cracked open with a yawn. "I haven't been sleeping."

"I know." Maura held her hand. "You were barely in bed last night."

"Sorry," Jane whispered, rolling onto her side.

"Do you have any chest pain?"

"No."

"I think we can probably rule out angina," she said.

"I'm fine." Jane shrugged. "It's not serious. I just feel sick."

"Maybe it's not physical," Maura let go of her fingers, lowering them down onto Jane's thigh.

Her mood had dropped considerably from the night before, as though the switch of her life had been flicked and suddenly it all felt heavier. "Then why do I feel like I'm gonna be sick?"

Lifting her feet up, Maura sat beside her, holding her legs over her thighs. "You've not been right for a while."

"I just feel ill," Jane whispered. Maura returned to her desk, sitting back down beside Jane with a cellphone to her ear. Jane snatched it out of her hand and hung up. " _No_!"

"Jane. Please. I'm worried about you. This depression isn't lifting, you've been losing weight. Now you're complaining of physical ailments. You've been under a lot of stress lately."

Without any care for how she said it, Jane blurted out "I had another brother."

"Had?" Maura asked, picking up on the one word Jane didn't really want her to hear. She wrapped her hands around the back of her head, disguising her face. Maura leaned over and pulled them away again.

"My..." Jane sighed. She still didn't really know how to talk about anything. She sat up, wrapping her arms around Maura's stomach, resting her head against her legs. "Marco shot him. I was there."

Maura froze. "That's what you're remembering?"

"It must be," she said, pushing her face into the fabric of Maura's dress. She got lost in the familiar scent of Maura's skin and clothing. She tried as hard as she could to remember Marco, to remember her brother Rico. How would she ever remember how they smelt when she could barely remember her brother's face?

"Repressed memories." Maura untangled her arms and leaned back. Jane slipped off her shoes and lifted her feet up, settled on the couch beside her. She leant her head on Maura's shoulder. "It's more likely due to traumatic incident. If you were there, it makes sense that you wouldn't remember that time."

"Why am I remembering now?"

"The shooting." She'd connected the dots herself, yet it was only when Maura connected them that they made any sense. "A child died. All it takes is a trigger. One thing that can bring back a flash of memory. The depression makes sense. Your sense of self has been shaken up with new information, traumatic information."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"Sorry. Carl Rogers. Person centred theory. When your sense of self doesn't match up with your experiences, you're more likely to develop depression."

"That doesn't make me feel any less crazy."

"I know." She rubbed her hand across Jane's arm and pressed her lips against her fingers. "I'm sorry. I know how hard it's been finding out Frank isn't your father, this is merely additional instability. But you're not alone. You'll never be alone with this."

"I don't deserve you," Jane whispered, nuzzling her face against Maura's neck. "All I've done is shit on you and you've not gone anywhere."

"I love you, you're my wife. No amount of anger about keeping things from me will stop me from being there for you."

x

Maura held her close, and Jane allowed herself to get lost in her wife's embrace. The bedsheets pulled up tightly around them, creating a safe space where Jane hoped she could forget, if only for a moment, what was happening outside of that bed. But it was impossible. The longer they lay there in silence, the more thoughts crept into her mind and she was left gasping for full breaths.

"I don't know how to feel anymore," she whispered, burrowing her face against Maura's collarbone. "Everything's wrong. Nothing makes sense. I want to hold Rico and tell him the world is the greatest thing, and in the same breath I want to tell him I named him after an uncle he will never know. A brother _I_ never knew."

Maura tensed up. "He was called Rico?"

"If I'd known..." Jane trailed off. She lifted her head and stared into her narrowed eyes. "I'd never have suggested the name."

"You always said you felt an affinity to it," Maura said, her taut frame loosened quickly. Jane's eyebrows tugged together. She hadn't intended to blurt it out. She'd been holding it in for days, not really sure how to address the additional information.

She shrugged. "I didn't say that."

Maura smiled. "I was paraphrasing. The way you talked about the name before Rico was born, I felt like it was right. You had a name that meant something to you."

"I didn't know, though," Jane said. A mixture of a scoff and a laugh escaped her open mouth. She rolled onto her back, distancing herself slightly.

"Part of you must have." Maura wrapped her arms back around Jane's chest and held her close. From the other room, the sound of Rico's grizzling cries echoed against the louder sounds from the monitor. Jane pushed Maura's hands away, her chest ached. "Do you want to?"

"No." She shook her head.

Maura sat up, pulling her gown around her middle. "Don't avoid him."

"I..." Jane opened her mouth, she tried to speak but the words failed to materialise. Maura stared at her, expectant. Clearing her throat, Jane tried again, her voice tiny. "I don't know how to anymore."

"The way you always have," Maura said, reaching over to cup her face.

She shook her cheeks against her hands, tears gathered in her eyes. "I've given him a legacy he didn't ask for. How could I do that to him?"

"You did nothing wrong."

"Please." A wave of sickness flooded her. "I can't. Not today."

Watching her for a moment, Maura tilted her head to one side, hesitant to move. "Okay."

x

 _Short brown curls stuck to the boy's cheek, smudged red with blood. She stared at him. His eyes glassy, stared back, lifeless, empty. A man screamed. His footsteps pounded across the dry dirt, pushing her aside. He sat down, cradling the boy, tears coursed down his cheeks._

"What happened?" Jane asked, staring into Marco's eyes. Her father's eyes. Eyes she was certain matched those of the brother she barely remembered. A chill ran down her back, icy cold. The sight of her brother Rico's eyes staring back at her, frozen in time, made the weight feel ten times heavier. Her only comfort was Maura's hand tucked gently around her thigh.

"You asking tells me you already know," he said, reaching across the table. He touched Jane's finger. She pulled it back like she'd been burned.

"I don't know shit," she shouted, holding her hands beneath the table. "I know what Ma told me and what she told me is what you told her on the day she lost her son. So, please, tell me what the fuck happened."

"What did she say?" he asked, his voice emotionless, cold.

In some ways she thought she knew him, this man who shared her blood, but the tone of his voice didn't match the father she envisaged when she remembered moments from her past. She clenched her fists around her jeans to steady them. "You were cleaning your gun."

"Yeah. I were."

Jane pursed her lips. Everything she was taught at the academy regarding gun safety flooded her mind, surrounding every explanation she could muster in his defence. "Why the fuck was it loaded?"

He shrugged, his nonchalance too painful to watch. "I was a kid."

"You were a _parent_." Jane leaned forward, her teeth gritted so tightly her jaw ached. Each word left her mouth in a shower. "Your job as a parent is to protect your children."

"I failed," he said, the first hint of emotion crept into his voice. "I know that."

"Do you? You talk to me like none of this matters, like you've forgotten about him."

The more she spoke, the louder her voice became, until every word was shouted across the room, surrounded by the threat of tears. "How could you forget the son you murdered?"

"I have _never_ forgotten him," he shouted, his cheeks reddened. "Not a day goes by where I don't think about you and Rico."

"You have no right," Jane shouted. She stood up, leaning over the table. It took every bit of willpower, and the feel of Maura's hand on her back, to stop her from punching him.

A guard approached the table. He glared at her, until she sat back down. Her emotions, her anger, barely dissipated. She reached for Maura's hand under the table, reminding herself several times not to grip it too tightly.

"I'm still your dad," he said, a distinct break in his voice. "Whatever you think of me. I'm still the man who brought you into this world."

"My _mother_ brought me into this world," Jane shouted. " _You_ took my brother _out_ of it."

"It was an accident," Marco shouted, standing up. The guard returned to the table, a hand on the shoulder pushed Marco back into his seat.

"An accident? Are you fucking stupid?" Jane sprang to her feet again, she gripped hold of the front of his jail issued uniform. "You're a fucking coward!"

"Jane. Don't," Maura said, standing at her side, holding onto her wrist. The guard stood off to one side, his eyes locked with Maura's. "Please."

"Listen to your friend," Marco said.

Jane let go and slouched into her seat, her fingers ached, still balled up as though the material of his outfit was still between her fingers and palm. She gritted her teeth. Tears pricked at the edges of her eyes. She swiped a hand across her cheek. The heavy weight returned to her chest. If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed the words that followed had come out of someone else's mouth. "Maura's not my friend. She's my wife."

" _Oh_." He sat up straight. His eyebrows creased together. "Right."

Jane chewed the inside of her lip until she tasted metal. He stared at her, switching between Jane and Maura in quick succession. She spat her words out. "That okay with you, Daddy?"

"Whatever floats your boat," he said, shrugging.

She didn't know what she expected from coming out to her father, but his nonchalance disappointed her. The harder she fought them, the faster the tears threatened to fall. Her knee bounced until she stood up. She looked to Maura. "I can't do this. I need to go."


	9. Chapter 9

**Author Notes : I planned to post this a week ago, but the website wasn't working. This week has been hectic at work. I've been doing 2 people's jobs while a colleague was on an extended holiday. Only he didn't come back because he's ill. Work has been really busy, and it's going to continue being busy for the next couple of weeks. I'm having to work late at least 1 night a week, and between seeing family and trying to stay rested, I've not got much time for much else. Now it's weekend I finally have a bit more brain space to post.**

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Outside, the wind blew hard, forcing them off their path towards the car. Jane marched forward, fearless against the insufferable wind. Raindrops filled the spaces between great gusts.

In the passenger seat, Jane stared straight ahead as rain pounded the windshield. She listened to Maura speaking beside her, to the engine starting, but nothing registered with her brain.

"Hopefully Frankie won't mind looking after him a little while longer."

She reached up to the visor above her head and pulled it open, tugging down the little flap that hid the mirror. Staring at her reflection, Jane focused on her eyes, on the colour of her pupils, of the shape of her eyelids. Anything she could see, she committed to memory, trying to understand what matched the man she couldn't help but loathe.

"I know I don't usually condone drinking when low, but we could pick up some beer."

"Sure," she whispered, running a finger along the bottom of her eye. The lines on her face reminded her more of her mother, than of her father. What balance did she contain? Was she her mother's daughter or was she a prisoner to her father's crimes? She always thought she had Frank's eyes, now she wasn't so sure.

 _The gun smoked; hot metal under the midday sun. The bullet disappeared. The boy on the ground. Her heart pounding so fast she thought she might die in that very moment._

"Jane?"

She leaned back against the car seat, her eyes pressed tightly shut. The weight on her chest consumed her, pushing any chance of breath out of her throat. Her heart hammered in her ear.

"Jane, are you okay?" Maura asked, slowing the car a moment later and unbuckling her belt.

Jane stared at her, desperate to say something, to scream for help but she didn't have the capacity to do so. She stared into her eyes, choking for breath, clutching at her throat.

"Can't, can't," she gasped. She opened and closed her fists, the feeling shifted. "Help."

"It's okay." Maura leaned over and opened the passenger door, she cupped Jane's cheeks. "I think you're having a panic attack. It's going to be okay."

"Not." Jane shook her head, tugging at the front of her shirt, fabric pulled tight around her throat like hands trying to strangle her.

Unfastening a couple of buttons, Maura pushed her shirt away from her shoulders, leaving her in little more than her bra. She didn't care. All that mattered was the momentary relief it provided. She clung to Maura's hands, resting against her shoulders.

"Help."

"I'm here," Maura whispered, resting her cheek against Jane's. Lifting her hands across Maura's back, Jane let out a gasp of air. She listened to the gentle beat of Maura's heart, to the slow, methodical breaths. "Breathe in, and out, slowly."

Once her breaths had returned to a more natural pattern, Maura barely moved. She stared into Jane's eyes. Jane stared back, her cheeks flushed, her head cloudy. She slouched back in her seat, her eyelids heavy.

"How are you feeling?" Maura asked, sitting back into her seat.

"Like I had to face Hoyt times a million," she scoffed, forging a smile. Maura didn't look so convinced. "I'm fine."

"I doubt that." Maura started up the engine again. She opened a bottle of water and handed it to Jane. "Drink that. Slowly, and don't forget to breath, in and out."

x

The night surrounded her, pulling her deeper under the blanket of darkness, pushing the air out of her lungs until she woke up with a scream. Slivers of light illuminated the bottom of the door; street lamps forced their way through the sides of the curtains. Jane stared out across the darkness, her lungs burned with every harried breath.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Maura whispered, her lips millimetres from Jane's ear. She gripped her shoulder, cool fingertips pierced through the heat of her skin. "You're okay."

"No." Jane shook her head. She clung to Maura's arm, gasping for air. "I don't think it's ever gonna be okay again."

Maura held her close. "What did you see? Tell me what you saw."

 _The boy. The blood. The gun on the floor. Her heart pounding. Her lips dry. A scream stranded at the back of her throat._

"I need air." Jane pushed Maura's hands away. The bedsheets slipped from her body. She rushed across the room without a second thought, abandoning Maura, despite her concerned words following in her wake.

She picked up her jacket and a pair of pants on the way out the door, and kept walking out onto the street. She strolled along the sidewalk, her feet carrying her as far and as fast as she could manage. The pain in her chest barely dissipated. In her pocket, her cell phone buzzed. She dipped a hand into the pocket, then removed it again, the phone still buzzing against her hip.

x

By day break, Jane stood in the gateway of Pinewood Penitentiary. The morning sun hung high in the sky. Had she slept, she might have considered it a beautiful morning. She scooped her cell out of her pocket. Sixteen missed calls. She sighed and returned it to her pocket.

"You're too early," a man said, popping his head out of the booth by the entrance. "Visiting int for another two hours."

She shrugged. Years of experience dealing with rookie cops and vigilante security guards gave her the skills necessary to deal with the man standing in front of her. She stared at him, tightly squeezing her hands closed. "I'll wait."

"Int got anywhere for ya to wait," he said, folding his arms.

Ignoring him, Jane walked across the parking lot and perched against a wall. She stood there watching the security guard carry out his morning routine, wondering how often he questioned his boring existence.

He disappeared long enough to find a mug of coffee and sat down beside the booth. Narrowing his eyes, he stared at her, a stone's throw away. He stood up, marching towards her. She balked. "We got a spare chair inside."

She followed him back across the lot and waited for the spare chair to materialise. She perched on the plastic of his seat, testing out the comfort level of different positions before settling on leaning forward, her elbows on her knees.

He scraped the second chair across the concrete and sat, his legs spread wide. "Ya don't look like the usual sort."

"How would you know?" she asked, spitting out the words. "You're a kid."

"I'm twenty-five. I been here since I were twenty. I know the sort."

"Right."

Leaning forward, he pulled a cardboard packet out of his pocket and held it over. "Smoke?"

"No."

He pulled a cigarette out and lit it up, blowing the fumes into Jane's face. She waved a hand in front of her nose and sat back. "You one of those goody-two shoes type who got involved with a bad boy?"

"No!"

"Right. Jailhouse kid."

"Pardon?"

"You's either dating a criminal or you's the kid of one."

"How would you know?"

"That's a yes to Jailhouse kid."

Gritting her teeth, Jane turned her head in the opposite direction. Her cell phone vibrated in her pocket again. She reached in to get it, but came up empty handed.

"You avoiding someone?"

"Something like that." He asked a dozen more questions, one after the other, not stopping for breath. "Would you shut it?"

He stood up and disappeared into the booth. He returned a moment later, and swiped a card across the entrance door, giving Jane access to the building.

x

It took another hour before she sat in front of Marco Capello. Her father. The man she didn't know. The man who caused her life to turn out this way, spiralled out of control like a leaf caught up in a tornado.

"Back so soon," Marco said, grinning.

Jane grunted. She reached down and gripped the edges of her chair, digging her uneven cut nails into the plastic seating. She stared him down, fixated on his eyes, eyes which had returned to memory in their entirety.

"What really happened?" she asked, sitting upright. She folded her hands on her lap, forcing every breath into her lungs, slow and methodical.

He shook his head ever so slightly. "What you talking about?"

Jane leaned forward. "The day. Rico. Died. What really happened? Tell me the truth."

He shrugged, his eyebrows knitted together. "I already have."

Her heart rate increased, her fingernails dug deeper into the plastic chair. "That's bullshit and you know it. Why are you protecting me?"

" _You_?"

Closing her eyes, she paused, allowing a breath into her lungs and sending it on its way. She opened them again, and leaned close. "I remember."

He sat back, holding his hands out at either side, his mouth upturned. "How can you remember something that d'ain't happen?"

" _Stop_. Please." Tears filled her eyes, overflowing in seconds. They ran down her cheeks, one after the other, soaking the collar of the tshirt she wore to bed. "I need you to tell me. You've been part of the biggest lie of my entire life. The least you can do is be honest now.

 _The dry grass tickled her ankles. Across the yard, he stood with an officer, his head in his hands. He stared at her, his head moving from side to side. She reached out a hand, her cheeks red raw from tears._

"You never did ask why I'm still here," he said, shrugging. "Eight years. That's all I got. But ya probably know what it's like in here. You're a cop. Shit happens."

She chewed on her lip. Her heart ached. The tears continued their path down her face, settling in their resting place against her tshirt. "That's not what I asked."

"I killed someone." The serenity in his voice unsettled Jane. The crease between her eyebrows deepened. "It were my only choice. Got another forty years. Been good since. Chance I might get out in the next few years, if I don't fuck it up again."

"There's _always_ a choice," she shouted.

"No. Jane. There ain't always a choice. When ya leave your kids in the yard for a few minutes and come back to find your _tiny_ , _baby_ girl with a smoking gun." The words disappeared into his tears, matched only by Jane's. He leaned forward, covering his face with his hands. "Your son, your first born child, bleeding to death. There ain't _no_ choice."

 _The weight of the gun in her hands disappeared. Thud. He shouted her name. She stared across the yard, his eyes wide, his mouth open. Bells rung continuously. She fell to the floor, two knees, two hands. Thud. Thud. A pair of hands wrapped around her waist._

Letting go of the plastic chair, Jane lifted her hands against her chest. A pain coursed through her body. She withered down in her seat, constricting the air even faster. She pulled her hands back, wrapping them round her front, clumsily reaching for the fabric of her shirt, tugging the loose elastic from her throat. Words disappeared into tears. "Yes. There is."

"What was my other choice?" Marco asked, leaning forward. He reached out to her arm, but she pulled it back. "Tell me what the fuck my other choice was."

" _I_..."

"I did the _only_ thing I could do to protect you. You were too young to understand. I should never have had a gun. Your Ma hated guns. She didn't want one in the house. But I were young, I were stupid. I ran with a bad crowd. I sold drugs. I got into a mess and the only way I could protect myself was to buy that gun."

"But..."

" _No_." He stared at her until she lifted her gaze. "Don't. I don't need your police officer rubbish about gun safety. I _know_. I know I screwed up. That day I lost everything. You, Angela, my son. My freedom. Would I do it again to protect you? In a heartbeat. I did this for _you_. Would you have wanted to grow up knowing you'd killed your brother? I sacrificed myself for _you_. I did this for _you_. I'm here for _you_."

Wiping at her cheeks, the heat in her face barely dissipated. Fresh tears slipped from her eyes. She fought through the prison wrapping itself tighter around her chest. Every word slow, broken up. "None of this, would have happened, if it wasn't for _you_."

"No." He thrust a finger out in front of him. "I know that. I've had to live with that for thirty eight years. Do you know how hard that is?"

"Why, why didn't you tell…I needed the truth, you needed to tell me, sooner?" The words tumbled out of her mouth. Jane tried to force the confidence back into her voice, but no matter how hard she tried, it still came out like a mouse trying to get attention on a busy train. The tightness in her chest increased. She stood up, rubbing her face. "I don't…why, why did you keep…lying?"

"I failed everybody. I loved your Ma. I loved you all so much and I ruined it by letting you get hold of my gun."

"I need..." She tried to sit down again, the chair shifted to one side. It slid out from under her, pushed back by the weight of her butt on the edge of the plastic. Her chin knocked the table as she went down.

"Jane!" Marco shouted, rushing around the table. A guard held him back.

She landed on the floor, the pain shifted to her chin. She grasped at the edge of the table and tried to pull herself back up. Halfway up, she tumbled back down again.

"Stay there," an unfamiliar voice shouted, pushing her back to the ground. She rested her head. "I need an ambulance, immediately. Clear the damn room."


	10. Chapter 10

**Author Note** **: Thanks for all of the interest in this story, I've finally written another chapter. The first part was already written, but I came upon a small hurdle that I've now overcome. I hope you enjoy it...**

* * *

"Jane!" Maura shouted, rushing into the room with Rico in her arms. She placed him on the bed and wrapped her arms around Jane's shoulders, a hand still rested on Rico's back.

"I told you not to call her," Jane muttered, staring at the nurse. She leaned back in her seat.

"I'm glad you did," Maura said. "I've been worried sick. What happened?"

"I went for a walk."

"I know. At _one in the morning_. Why didn't you come home?"

"I dunno."

"Jane."

Fresh tears flooded her cheeks. She burrowed her face into the side of Rico's hair, rubbing her palm across her face. Their eyes locked. The nurse smiled and disappeared through a door on the far side of the room. "It was me."

"What was you?" Maura asked, perching on the edge of the bed.

"I killed my brother Rico. I shot him."

Maura's eyes moved back and forth around the space, never quite landing on anything in particularly. She sighed. "Is that what Marco told you?"

"No." Maura lifted Rico back onto her hip and settled beside her. "That's what I remember. It came back, _everything_ , clearer than I ever thought. He was in the garden building a planter. I think he liked growing vegetables. We always ate real vegetables. Rico, my brother, got tired of me talking to him. I probably didn't make sense. I was only small. I went inside to get a juice box and I went into the bedroom. I always saw Marco checking a box under their bed but he never let me see what was inside. I didn't know. I think I thought there was candy, or something. I picked it up, it was heavy, but I held it up and made shooting noises. Rico played cops and robbers with his friend and I was never allowed to join in. I watched them. Ma said I was too young. I took the gun out into the garden and I made the shooting noises. I don't know where Marco had gone, he wasn't in the garden. But I squeezed the trigger until it popped. I fell down. When I sat up I was covered in blood. Rico was on the ground. My father cradled him. He took the gun across the garden and I started crying. Then…I can't remember. It's like a block."

"Are you sure you're not projecting?"

"No. I remember." She choked back tears. "I killed Rico."

A moment's pause followed. Maura gripped her hand tighter, her smile spread across her face, shrouded in sympathy. "Okay."

"Okay?" Jane pushed herself upright, her eyebrows tugged together. "That's all you've gotta say?"

Maura closed her eyes and shook her head. "You're exhausted. You ended up in the hospital because you're unwell."

"I'm not making this up." Jane shifted, pulling her hand out of Maura's. She frowned. "Don't you believe me?"

"I believe you," Maura said, slowly, methodically.

"You don't sound like you do."

"I'm _worried_ ," Maura said, reaching for her arm. Jane buried it under the bedsheet. "You collapsed, Jane. That doesn't happen without a valid reason. You need to look after your health."

Pressing her lips together, the hairs on Jane's arms sprang up. No matter what she did, she couldn't stop the continuing flow of tears. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise." Maura cupped her cheek, brushing tears away with her thumb. "I need you to take this seriously."

"I _am_. Everything is fighting for space in my brain." She covered her eyes, shielding herself from Maura. She wanted her comfort above all else. "What's one more thing?"

"Don't hide away," Maura said, pushing her fingers from her face and climbing onto the bed beside her. Despite her protestations, Maura slipped an arm around her and lifted Rico between them. "We'll get through this."

"When?"

"I don't know." Maura leaned close, her nose pressed against Jane's cheek. "But we will."

x

"Where are you going?" Maura asked. She balanced Rico on her knee and held out a piece of banana.

Jane clipped her badge onto her belt. "Work, where does it look like I'm going?"

Maura didn't speak. Jane could feel her derision from across the room. She rushed forward, her mouth open and her arms outstretched. The smile on her face faltered briefly, but she pushed it back on there. "Hey Rico! You gonna eat your 'nana?"

" _Ba_ nana." Maura sighed. "If we don't use the correct names for items, Rico will learn nicknames, and that's not sufficient."

She scooped him up and rested him on her hip. Leaning close, she kissed the side of his head. He held the slice of banana in his hand and stuffed it into his mouth. "There's a good boy, eat your 'nana."

"So, you're going to ignore me now?"

Jane shook her head. "I'm not ignoring you. I just don't agree with you."

"Developmentally," Maura began.

"He will be at no disadvantage." Jane lowered Rico into his high chair, putting a pot of yogurt in front of him. When she moved away, Maura stood up. "Don't."

"Don't what?" Maura asked.

"You're going to feed him yogurt. Don't. Developmentally he needs to experience all parts of food, not just the taste. Let him use his hands. Just this once."

She narrowed her eyes. Jane stared into them. The crease between Maura's eyes deepened. She could almost see the working of her mind, the weighing up of the decision. Jane forged her biggest, widest smile, and Maura crumbled.

"Okay. But are you sure going to work is a good idea?"

"I need to get my routine back," Jane said. "I'll be fine."

"Will you?"

"Maura."

"Yes?"

"You're nagging. Please don't nag. You're reminding me of my mother."

"Your mother loves you."

"Yeah, well, that doesn't mean she's not annoying as hell."

Maura closed the gap, grasping her hands. "Will you eat?" Jane scrunched up her nose. "If I bring you food, will you eat?"

"I'll eat, Maur," Jane said. "I'll take no less than four breaks; one after a couple of hours, one for lunch and two more before I come home. Will that satisfy you?"

"Maybe."

Jane raised her eyebrows. "What more can I do?"

"Take a sick day."

Jane threw her arms up in the arm and tossed them back down. She let out an almighty grunt. "Maura. Stop. You're mollycoddling me and it's not helping. The harder you push the harder I want to push back. If you want me to feel better, stop acting like I'm five."

"I wasn't," Maura said, but Jane cut her off.

"You are. I know you're well meaning, and I love that about you, but stop. Just…stop." Silence descended. Jane stared into Maura's eyes, desperate to see her emotions, but a wall had formed, impenetrable. She frowned. The space between them shrunk. Jane twisted her little finger around Maura's. "I'm sorry for shouting. I just need some space to sort my shit out. Okay? Just give me time."

Maura nodded. "Very well. I'll see you when you get home."

x

"The call came in an hour ago, uniform attended," Korsak said, flipping open his notepad. Jane fell into step beside him. "We've got a young woman, twenty-three, deceased. Blunt force trauma, and several gunshot wounds. It's pretty clear this wasn't an accident."

"Don't let Maura hear you say that," Jane said, smirking. Korsak raised an eyebrow, his own lips pressed together. She put on an accent. "Your hypothesis is that it was an accident, but we will not have a conclusion until I have completed the autopsy."

"How do you know that is blood?" Korsak continued, making Jane double over. "It is a reddish brown stain."

"I will not say it is blood until we have the results back."

"Stop!" Korsak said, holding his stomach. "It's a good job she's not working today. You know she doesn't like you poking fun."

"I'm just joshing, Maura knows that," Jane said, shrugging her shoulders. She snapped on a pair of gloves and shoe covers. Jane crouched beside the front door and analysed the handle. "She must have known her killer. No sign of forced entry."

"Nothing on the body, either." Korsak guided her through the small house. "They've already taken photos and samples. There's a lot of blood, and a few suspect hairs, but mostly it's a whole lot of mess and little to go on."

Jane stopped short of the body. Korsak walked on ahead, around the body, stopping on the other side. The blood flashed across Jane's eyes, merging with the blood covering her overalls as a toddler. She shook her head. Her breathing became laboured.

"Anything else?" she asked, forcing herself to join Korsak beside the woman's beaten up body. She stared down at bruises covering her arms and legs. She closed her eyes.

 _He lay on the floor. His body curled into the foetal position. He cradled his arm. She crouched beside him, her tiny fingers pulled at his shirt. He pushed her hand away, pushing his shirt up as he moved his hand back up to his head. Purple and red skin spread across his stomach. She landed on her knees; tears skirted her nose and landed on his cheek._

 _"Daddy's alright," he said, pulling her close. "He's just got a little hurt. The bad men are gone. Daddy's gonna be alright."_

"She lived here with her folks. Frankie's trying to track them down."

"Bet he's real glad to be missing this," Jane said, staring through the scene. She shook her head.

"Uniform are already speaking to locals, we've got a couple next door but one willing to answer questions."

"Quick," Jane said, closing her eyes. She could smell the blood. The thick, red globules of liquid pooled at their feet, soaking into the linoleum. Several gun shot wounds broke apart the fabric of the woman's dress.

"You wanna go see the couple while I finish up here?"

"You go," Jane said, crouching down beside the woman's body. Her eyes were open, glassy, lifeless. She stared into them, silently begging for them to close, for the woman to wake up again. For the first time in her career, the sight of death sent a chill spreading through her whole body. She opened her mouth to speak, but words escaped her. Her breath caught in her throat.

A clattering sounded from a door to their right. Jane lifted her head. Korsak walked around the body, his gun out. He nodded at Jane and pointed to the door. Jane responded quickly, her body knew what to do faster than her mind. She pulled out her gun and moved to the other side.

"One, two," Korsak whispered. He tugged on the door handle and pulling it open.

A man stood on the other side. Jane stared into his eyes long enough to see the human behind the door. He barged into Korsak, knocking him flying onto the floor before he ran off through the back door. She glanced briefly at Korsak, his suit soaking up blood faster than he fell. Jane gave chase, sprinting off in the opposite direction, not stopping to think. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, hurdling over the back gate after him.

"Stop, Police," she shouted, her feet landed on the dirt track behind the house.

He continued running, taking a left at the end of the alley. His feet pound the pavement, her own crashing down, her ankles sore and her body tired. She felt out of practice. He took a right, and she nearly skidded round the bend. She got closer but he turned again, until she had him trapped.

She smiled. This was the job. The thrill of the chase ending in an easy catch. It was her lucky day. She struggled to regain her breath, but it was fine, he wasn't going anywhere. She stepped forward, her eyebrows raised.

The gun came out of nowhere. He raised it, holding it towards her, his hands wrapped around the gun. She lifted her own, her hands shook, her heart rate sped onward, faster than she had ever felt it go before.

She hesitated. The trigger was beneath her finger. Her eyes fixed on her target. But she couldn't breathe. The air knocked out of her. She opened her mouth in an attempt to force a new breath, but she suffocated on her own lungs.

She gripped the gun tighter, her finger slipped off the trigger. She tried again, but her hands shook too rapidly. She stared into his eyes, could see his own finger wrap around the trigger.

Rico, her brother, came to mind. His face warped and twisted into her son's. She stared into his beautiful face. Fresh tears strolled down her cheeks. Her heart thrummed so fast she could hear it in her ears. Everything slowed down.

The gun fired. Jane fell to the ground.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author Note** **: Hmm. So I reached the end quicker than I imagined. I'm not sure whether this should be the final chapter, or whether there should be one more. The problem is, if I wrote more, it would almost be for the sake of writing more? There's nothing more to tell, right now. Maybe a few months later, further down the line of Jane's story. Maybe a sequel. I don't know. So, for now, this is potentially the end...but there's so much more than could be explored.**

* * *

The gun shot rang out in Jane's ears. She lifted her head slowly, her hands tangled up in her hair. In front of her, the man lay on the ground, blood pooled around his body. His eyes were glassy. Lifeless. She tried to stand, but tumbled back to the floor.

"It's okay," Korsak said, wrapping a hand around her arm and helping her to her feet. "I got you."

She lifted her gaze, her hands still tucked around her ears, covered in curls. Her heart rapped against her chest, boom boom, boom boom. Korsak's eyes were soft, friendly. She focused her attention on them. But nothing stopped the pain coursing through her chest, restricting her breathing. She gasped. Sickness settled in the pit of her stomach and she thought she was going to vomit. She leaned forward, but nothing surfaced.

"I'm gonna call this in," Korsak said, his hand still tucked around her arm. "When we get back to the station, I think we need to talk."

She shook her head, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. She could hear his words, but her ears were full of water. Korsak loosened his grip on her arm. She stared into his eyes again, and she could see herself magnified, her failure to do the most basic element of her job. The words Korsak would say when they reached BPD were already in her mind. She'd heard them before.

" _No_ ," she whispered, pushing against his arm, forcing him to step back. She put one foot on the ground, then her other, repeating it over and over again as she sprinted away from the scene.

"Jane!" Korsak shouted. His voice drifted off into the sound of traffic as she sped across a road and down another street. Her feet pounded the earth, one by one, her chest kept up the pace, beating to the rhythm of her footsteps.

x

The hours passed by. Daylight turned to nightfall and Jane ignored her cell phone's buzzing for what felt like the hundredth time. She continued to walk, to get as far away from the feelings that made it harder to breath, to live. She retrieved her phone from her pocket and pressed the voicemail button.

"Jane. It's Maura. Please, answer your phone. We're so worried. Rico won't sleep. He's missing his Mama. Please. Call me. Let me know you're okay."

Rico's cries in the background hit her the hardest. The message ended, and she silently hoped that all six messages were from Maura.

A new one began. "I love you. Rico loves you. Please, Jane."

The next message. Her mother's voice, her loud sobs. "Janie, we're all worried, what is going on? You can't just run off like that. Frankie's beside himself. He should have been out there with you, he thinks it's his fault. Maura's upset. I'm upset. Just come home."

The message ended. She stepped up to the edge of the bridge and stared out across the icy water. The night was growing colder. She regretted not bringing a jacket. Another message played.

"Hey, Jane, it's Korsak. What happened today, it's not your fault. You're not in trouble. We want to help you. Call somebody, anybody."

"It's Korsak again. The longer you're out there, the more worried we all are. If you don't call somebody soon we're gonna have to hack into your phone." He paused. " _Nina's_ gonna have to hack into your phone to find you."

The final message began. A crack of thunder sounded in the distance. A sudden downpour landed on her shoulders; thick, wet blobs of water coming down so quickly that nothing would protect her.

"Hello, Jane Rizzoli, this is the doctor's office. We noticed you missed your last pap smear. Can you please call us back to schedule an appointment?"

Everyone's voices rolled into one, repeating themselves over and over in her brain. She tried to push them aside, but more voices joined them, blending into the backdrop of heavy rainfall. Rico's voice, all those years ago. Marco's cries. Frank Rizzoli's admonishment when she did something wrong. Frankie and Tommy roughhousing and blaming it on her. The disappointment in her mother's voice when she told her she might be gay. The glee when she realised that meant Maura would be her daughter-in-law. The miscarriage they suffered. The worry that baby Rico might never be born. The pain in her heart whenever she thought about the future.

It surrounded her. Drowned her. She tried to catch a breath. Every gasp was so much harder than she ever anticipated. She closed her eyes and covered her ears again. Her fingers wrapped tightly around her hair, anger and frustration coursed through her until she gripped her cell phone and tossed it over the side of the bridge.

She unclipped her badge and threw it like a baseball into the river. She reached for her gun. The weapon she'd carried for years. Then she remembered it had landed in the alley when she thought she was about to die. She took off the holster and threw it into the dark waters, a representation of the weapon she thought she knew how to control.

She felt numb. She stared into the white water crashing against the river walls. She closed her eyes again. The wind and rain hit against her cheeks. Everything felt out of control. There was nothing she could do to fix it. Her career was in tatters; every time she was with Maura she made things worse. Her father wasn't around. Her mother had lied to her. Her real father was serving jail time for a crime he didn't commit. She shot and killed her brother.

Her eyes stayed on the water. The icy cold depth below. Nothing else mattered.

x

Red and blue lights flashed in her peripheral vision. Jane turned her head, distracted for a brief moment from the waters below. When she saw Maura, standing in the distance, she suddenly felt the cold soaking her down to the bone. Her teeth chattered, her shoulders shook. Fresh tears strolled down her cheeks like a waterfall.

She stepped away from the bridge, each step a step towards something, anything. She crumbled into Maura's arms; great gasping sobs barely infiltrated the sound of the weather.

"You're okay," Maura said, cradling her, holding her tightly. Her voice broke. "You're going to be okay. I promise."

"How did you find me?"

"Cavanaugh craved and let us use the GPS tracker."

"I'm sorry." Jane shook her head. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Maura stroked her cheek. "You're okay."

"I don't know how to do this," Jane shouted, broken up by sobs. "I don't know how to get a hold of this. I can't do it."

"I know." Maura nuzzled her nose against Jane's neck. She ran a hand along the back of her neck. "You're not alone. I'm here. We'll do this together."

"Oh Janie!" Angela shouted, rushing toward her. Maura stepped aside and Angela caught Jane in her arms, holding her upright. The outpouring of love from her most precious people made it harder to stand. She dropped to the ground, Angela's arms still wrapped around her.

"I'm sorry Ma." Memories of the shooting repeated themselves over and again. "I did it. Rico."

"I know." Angela stroked her hair from her face. "Maura told me everything. It wasn't your fault. It was Marco's. He shouldn't have let you near that gun."

"But," Jane tried to speak, but Angela cut her off.

"He did the honourable thing. He protected you from years of pain." She kissed her head. "I love you. You're gonna get through this Jane Clementine Rizzoli. You're strong. Stronger than I ever knew."

"Then why do I feel so broken?" Jane asked, glancing from her mother to Maura. Maura reached out a hand and grasped Jane's.

Together, they pulled her back to her feet. Maura wrapped an arm around Jane's back and guided her towards the squad car. "Let's go home. You're frozen."

x

The hot water warmed her bones. Jane sat in the bath, Maura by her side, pouring water over her head and washing her hair. She closed her eyes and succumbed to the feeling of warmth. To the love that Maura shared in her act of caring for her.

"I feel numb."

"It's okay to feel numb." Maura trailed her fingers across her collarbone, pushing her hair over her back. "You've been through something nobody could imagine. We see a lot of horror in our work, but nothing is worse than our own pain."

"I shouldn't have gone to work today." Jane lowered herself down into the water further. She lay with her head submerged, her face staring up into Maura's. "I wasn't ready."

"It's okay."

"I nearly died."

"So I hear."

"I wouldn't have minded." Maura glanced away. Her lips tightened. Jane sat upright again and reached for her hand. "But I don't want to lose you, or Rico."

Swiping at her cheek, Maura cleared her throat. "You're home now."

"Maura?" Jane asked, reaching for her hand. "I need help. I need you to help me. I want to get better so that I can be the mother Rico deserves."

She cupped Jane's cheek. Jane turned her head against it. "You're already the mother he deserves."

"Not like this."

"It's not your fault. You're ill. There's nothing to be ashamed about. Rico loves you. We both do."

She stood up and waited until Maura held up a towel. She stepped out of the bath. Maura wrapped her up and dried her down. She slipped into the sweat pants and a t-shirt Maura had brought into the bathroom, and fastened her hair up with a hair tie.

"Time for bed," Jane said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Maybe tomorrow we can go to the doctor."

"I'll make an appointment first thing. You're doing the right thing." Maura tucked her hand into Jane's. Jane slipped her other hand into the pocket of her pants. "You are."

"Doesn't feel like it."

"You've asked for help, that's the hardest part of recovery."

"Thank you." Jane tugged her through the door. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"I don't know what I'd do without you," Maura said, stepping even closer. She pulled back the bed sheets and helped Jane to climb into bed, slipping under the covers beside her. "I'm so glad that you came home."

"Me too. Goodnight, Maur."

"Goodnight, Jane."


End file.
